Braska's Journey
by Amberlee
Summary: [Updated 9.23.03] A FFX Novel: JechtBraskaAuron's trip to defeat Sin. Spoiler laden at every turn. Follows Legendary Guardian. R&R for me! language rated
1. Braska's Journey: The Disclaimers

**Disclaimer:**  
The following is a work of fan fiction based on the characters and situations created by Square Soft in the game Final Fantasy X.  I have created this work purely for my enjoyment and am not attempting, nor shall I attempt, to make a profit using the intellectual property of said company.  Please do not sue me.  This work is done out of respect for the creativity of the staff at Square and I don't really have much cash anyway.

**Author Notes:**  
Ok.  Here we go!  This is my second long fic based on the world of Spira and the life of Sir Auron.  It may be read as a continuation of Auron's life story that I began in the work Legendary Guardian.  As advertised, this is the story of Braska's Journey to obtain the Final Aeon.  It will, as a result, contain LOADS of game spoilers at every turn.  I'm not going to bother with putting spoiler warnings on each chapter because I'm sure I'd miss something.  

In most cases, I will be using the American release of FFX for Jecht, Auron, and Braska sphere dialogue.  I will, however, be referencing a translation copy of the dialogue from the FFX International Japan release be ensure that I'm getting all the subtle shadings in the A/J/B relationships.  I'll try to put a note at the start or end of a chapter where I have used direct wording from the games.

As in Legendary Guardian, Auron is considered to be from a long line of Samurai-class warriors who are steeped in the traditions of the Tokugawa Shogunate (1616-1867).  Additionally, my interpretation and concept of the Church of Yevon and its rituals comprise a melding of Zen Buddhist practice, Shinto, and Catholicism with a smack of Confucianism thrown in for grins.  As a result, knowledge of Japanese language is a given for Auron and assumed for anyone trained by the Church.  That's not to say I think everyone in Spira is of Japanese descent (no way), you'll just notice this kind of thing more than use of say…French for Dahlia's family and Al Bhed when appropriate.

**Conventions:**  
You should know when reading that…  
**//SOMETEXT//**      are Auron's thoughts    
****SOMETEXT****  are Braska's thoughts  
**~~SOMETEXT~~**  are Jecht's thoughts

Any Japanese words or phrases used in a chapter will be placed at the top of said chapter for reader notation.

**Planned Table of Contents:**  
I will attempt to hold to my original outline here on size.  I might even be able to shorten if I'm really lucky.  I'll probably annotate this in some way as the story progresses.  Chapters in **boldface** are posted.  

**Braska's Journey –The Disclaimers  
** **Bevelle – Chapter One – The Trials  
** **Bevelle – Chapter Two – Man From Zanarkand  
** **Bevelle – Chapter Three – Weapon of Choice  
** **Bevelle – Chapter Four – The Marketplace  
** **Bevelle – Chapter Five – Farewells**  
**Macalania – Chapter One – Into the Woods**  
**Macalania – Chapter Two – Complications**  
**Macalania - Chapter Three - The Travel Stop**  
**Macalania - Chapter Four - Revelations**  
**Macalania – Chapter Five – The Trials**  
**On the Road – Chapter One – Strained Relations**  
**On the Road - Chapter Two - Storms**  
**Guadosalam – Chapter One – Ghosts and Guado**  
**Guadosalam - Chapter Two - The Farplane**  
**Moonflow – Chapter One – Vows**  
**Djose – Chapter One – Homecoming**  
Djose – Chapter Two – Summoner and Sendings  
Mushroom Rock Road – Chapter One – Injury  
Mushroom Rock Road – Chapter Two – Peril  
Mushroom Rock Road – Chapter Three – Shelter  
Miihen Road – Chapter One – Chocobo Nights  
Luca – Chapter One – Reminders of Home  
Luca – Chapter Two – Facing Yourself  
Kilika – Chapter One – Arrival  
Kilika – Chapter Two – The Trials  
Kilika – Chapter Three – The Game  
Kilika – Chapter Four – Resolutions  
Kilika - Chapter Five – Goodbye Again  
Besaid – Chapter One – Promise Me  
Besaid – Chapter Two – The Trials  
Luca – Chapter Three – Return  
Luca – Chapter Four – Tournament  
Miihen Road – Chapter Two – FIEND!  
On the Road – Chapter Two – Fighting Every Step  
Bevelle – Chapter Six – My Yuna  
Bevelle – Chapter Seven – If Only  
Calm Lands – Chapter One – Heavy Hearts   
Calm Lands – Chapter Two – The Arena  
Mt Gagazet – Chapter One - Ascent  
Mt Gagazet – Chapter Two - Determination  
Mt Gagazet – Chapter Three - Pain  
Mt Gagzet – Chapter Four – A Final Test  
Mt Gagazet – Chapter Five – The Wall  
On the Road – Chapter Three – So this is Zanarkand  
Zanarkand – Chapter One – The Long Road  
Zanarkand – Chapter Two – Ebon Dome  
Zanarkand – Chapter Three – Braska's Aeon  
Zanarkand – Chapter Four – Auron's Pain  
Mt Gagazet – Chapter Six – Heartbreak and Agony  
Calm Lands – Chapter Three – The Summoning  
Calm Lands - Chapter Four – A Guardian Survives  
On the Road – Chapter Four – Headlong  
Zanarkand – Chapter Five – Exorcism  
On the Road – Chapter Five – Regrets  
On the Road – Chapter Six – A New Companion  
On the Road – Chapter Seven – Tacat  
Epilogue – When the Retainer Fails his Duty  


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Now, on with the story!


	2. Bevelle: Chapter One, The Trials

**Braska's Journey  
Bevelle – Chapter One - The Trials**

Auron and Braska stood in the circular antechamber that gave a Summoner access to the Fayth.  The strong, clear tenor of a youthful boy filled the room with the strains of the Hymn.  The priest turned to look at his Guardian.  "Well, Auron, wish me luck."

The warrior slid his massive blade into its sheathe on his back.  "Why, Lord Braska?"  He smiled slightly.  "You do not need it."

Braska chuckled and bowed his head.  The Helm of Yevon that graced his head shook with the motion.  "Thank you for your confidence.  I wish I felt it."

A strong hand reached out and settled on Braska's shoulder.  Auron motioned toward the Chamber with his head.  "The Fayth awaits you.  Go."

Taking a deep breath the tall slender man nodded and turned toward the door.  Staff before him, he walked with a self-assurance he didn't necessarily feel and ascended the short flight of stairs.  When he reached the landing, he hesitated.  Turning back to look at Auron he said, "I do not know how long it will take."  His face was an open book.  He was apprehensive.  Even had it not been, Auron could feel the man's concerns though the Call of Guardianship.

Taking two steps toward his Summoner, the Guardian folded his arms across his chest.  He exuded faith and confidence.  "I know.  I will be here when you return."

Braska's face lit up in a smile.  He drew himself up, turned, and entered the Chamber of the Fayth.

-------------------------

Auron paced the room for a while.  He had a lot on his mind.  He knew that Braska was fine – the initial trepidation that had flowed through their link was now replaced by calm confidence and peaceful tranquility.  The warrior smiled.  His Summoner was a good man, a faithful man, and he had every confidence in him.

He did not, however, have much faith in his Church right now.

The Trials had been a shock.  Braska had seemed unphased by the fact that they were filled with machina.  But, then, Braska rarely seemed outwardly phased by anything.  Most surprising to Auron had been the lack of any feeling of amazement or outrage from the priest through the Call.  It was almost as though his Lord had expected to find the sacrilegious things within the Trials.  It had shaken the monk badly, though he'd done his best to repress it and move forward.  He knew that Braska would know his feelings, but Auron refused to speak about them.  They had a goal, and the task ahead had to be focused upon first.  Once Braska obtained the Aeon, and officially became a Summoner, he could worry about the blasphemy he had seen. 

_"Do not be concerned, Auron.  Machina are no different from any other tool.  Just as you use a knife or sword, you use these.  I will teach you, if you like.  They are really very simple once you learn…"_

Auron's face was furrowed in concentration.  He strode back and forth, boot-falls echoing against the stone walls, as he thought about the Trials. Then he thought about Inek, Lord High Priest of Bevelle, and his refusal to administer the Oaths for the rituals.  It irked him.  His thoughts moved to the long days he had spent in the Well being tortured for being an honest man.  Shifting again, he thought about the unfair Censure and the dishonor it brought his name and that of his Summoner. He seethed.  Auron's strides across the stone floor quickened unconsciously as his temper flared.  Finally, he stopped.

_This is getting me nowhere and expends useless energy._

The warrior took a deep breath and moved to the base of the stairs.  He knelt in seiza position and began his breathing exercises.  Focusing his gaze on the step before him, he concentrated on the act of intaking and exhaling air from his lungs.  He allowed his mind to clear.  Opening his senses to the room, he let the beauty of the Hymn wash over him; filling him with peace and serenity. 

Now, I wait.

------------------------------

Auron lost all sense of time as he meditated in the antechamber.  Then, he felt something strange.  An unidentifiable sensation washed through him and his eyes flashed open.  He looked upward to the doorway.  Something had happened.

He stood and ascended the stairs as the door began to slide open.  Braska leaned against his staff and the archway; sweat dripping from his forehead. Auron stopped a few paces from his Summoner and placed his right hand, at the ready, on the hilt of his massive blade.  "My Lord?  Have you obtained the Aeon?"

The warrior was almost certain that he knew the answer, but he had to be sure.  There were no outward indicators that Braska had joined with the Fayth and produced a heretic Aeon, but it was better to be prepared.

Braska's head moved weakly up and down.  The soothing voice was soft and tired.  "Yes, Auron.  I have.  I have become a Summoner…"

A small noise emitted from the warrior as his hand released the sword hilt.  The words brought a rush of conflicting emotions to the fore.  They played over the monk's face as he closed the distance between himself and the man before him.  Auron was relieved that his friend had not become a heretic.  The chance of such an occurrence was less than remote, but it existed and he would not have wanted to kill his Lord. He was proud of Braska, and proud to be his Guardian in that moment.  Yet, he was also overwhelmingly dejected.   He cared deeply for the man, and now Auron would guard Braska as he walked Spira to his death.  The warrior had thought he was prepared for this moment, but he was wrong.

"Braska," the monk said, his voice filled with emotion.  "I told you.  You needed no luck."

A pale and shaking hand reached forward to rest on Auron's shoulder for support.  He smiled.  Braska leaned his weight into the solid and comforting form of his Guardian.  Auron moved and slid himself under Braska to support him, an arm around his waist.  Together they walked down the stairs and exited the antechamber – Summoner and Guardian side by side.

-------------------------

Only Wellak, Kinoc, and Dakat had been waiting when the pair exited the Trials.  The Weapons Master stood - arms folded across his chest - and nodded his approval before wordlessly turning and exiting the antechamber. 

Dakat Ronso had smiled, his teeth showing in a grin that made him seem like a carnivore out for dinner, and clapped Braska on the back with a huge paw.  Grunting, the bass voice had rumbled, "Dakat is pleased.  Now, Braska will defeat Sin." 

The Summoner had smiled and, chuckling, looked up at the huge walking pelt of blue.  "Thank you, Dakat, for everything."

The black mage had then nodded and left the chamber as well, leaving the two with only Kinoc for company.  The sandy haired man had a strange look on his face as he stepped toward Auron.  Then, he seemed to change his mind, and turned to face Braska instead. He bowed low and performed the sign of prayer.  "Lord Braska, I am pleased that you are well and that the Fayth have bestowed upon you the Aeon."  He rose and looked the Summoner in the eye. His voice was filled with deep emotion. "You are a good man, Braska.  I know you did everything you could for my mother.  I thank you for that."

Braska was visibly moved.  He reached forward a hand and placed it to Kinoc's shoulder.  "Thank you, Kinoc.  Your mother was a good woman and I was happy to do all I could for her.  You, too, have a good heart.  Do not let the intrigues of the temple allow you to forget that."

A long and meaningful look passed between the two before Braska withdrew and turned to Auron.  "I am tired, Auron.  It has been a long time since either of us ate or slept.  I will come to your home tomorrow and we will decide our day of departure."

The warrior nodded and turned to Kinoc.  The two still had much that lay, unspoken, between them.  Auron was unsure if they would ever regain the friendship that they once had.  He grieved for its loss.  "Emerline is staying in my old room, Kinoc.  If you would like to see your sister, you are welcome in my home."

"Thank you, but not today."  The man's tone was brusque.  "I have been away from the Garrison for quite a time already.  Perhaps another day."

Auron nodded sadly.  He did not disguise his disappointment.  "I understand."

"Besides, I must stop at the locks."  Kinoc's voice shifted to a tone of light conversation, passing over the tension between he and the Guardian. "Some crazy man was picked up on the outskirts of town.  He must have had a brush with Sin.  He insists that he is from Zanarkand, of all places!  Powerful fighter too.  He took out six Crusaders before they got him restrained.  If he hadn't, he'd probably just be in a sick room in the infirmary."

Braska's eyes widened.  "What?"

"Outrageous, isn't it?"  Kinoc shook his head.  "Zanarkand!"

The Summoner looked distracted as he nodded his head.  "Yes. Outrageous…"

Kinoc bowed again and excused himself. Braska barely noticed.  The change in the Summoner was not lost on Auron and he looked at his friend in question.  "Lord Braska, what is it?"

A delicate hand waved absently.  "Nothing.  I just find that bit of news intriguing."

"Hn." Auron grunted in reply.  Something was up, but Braska wasn't sharing.  He made a mental note to inquire about it tomorrow.  Right now, the man needed something to eat and some rest.  "Shall I accompany you to your new residence, Braska?"

The Summoner smiled brightly.  When they were alone, Auron was more frequently dropping the honorific.  It pleased him.  "No.  You go on.  Shana will be worried and want to know all about the Trials."

Auron frowned.  "You are sure?"  His tone was concerned.

Braska nodded leaning against his staff.  "I am fine, Auron. Really."

Russet eyes narrowed as they looked at the Summoner, appraising him.  The link told him the man was exhausted and weak.  "No.  I will see you home to bed."

Blue green eyes locked on Auron's. The voice became stern.  "Auron, I said no.  It is not necessary."

"Fine.  But I **will** see you as far as the marketplace.  It is on my way home."  Auron's tone said he would brook no argument.

Braska gave in, knowing Auron only wanted to help.  He looked at his Guardian and said, with great seriousness, "Auron, I want to thank you as well."

Auron knew his friend was starting to dwell on where things were headed.  He determined to lighten the mood.  Smiling widely, he said, "I am your Guardian now, my Lord."  Dark eyes flashed with an almost mischievous light. "All in a day's work."

The Summoner could not help himself. His laughter rang out in the chamber for a very long time.


	3. Bevelle: Chapter Two, Man from Zanarkan...

**Notes**:  The dialogue of the conversation with Jecht in the locks is verbatim from the US release of Final Fantasy X.

**Japanese Used:**  
**Watashi no iu-tōri ni shiro!:**  Do as I say!    
**Gomen nasai, tono:**  I am sorry, Lord.  
**Dashio:** A set of matching handled Japanese blades (katana and tanto) used only by Samurai or those of higher rank.  

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

**Braska's Journey  
Bevelle – Chapter Two – Man from Zanarkand**

"Thank you, Shana," Braska said with a smile as the housekeeper filled his teacup.  Auron sat across from him in a training gi.  The two were in the midst of a heated discussion.

"I do not understand, Lord Braska," Auron was agitated and he was not letting up on the issue.  The attempt to cause peace with service on the part of Shana was a ploy in which he had no interest.  "What is the point in going to see the man?  He is obviously sick or insane."

"Yes, Auron, but I am a healer - the most skilled healer in the temple.  The attempt to assist him must be made.  It is a matter of good will and charity.  If he, as I suspect, is **not** insane or ill, then he will join us on our quest."  Braska took a drink of his tea and sat the cup back on the surface of the low table.  His placid and serene exterior had not changed.  The soft controlled voice continued to try and soothe Auron.  However, through their bond, the warrior could tell that the Summoner was becoming impatient.

"To even suggest that we bring this man on the Journey is ridiculous!"  Auron's voice raised another notch.  

Braska's eyebrows rose.  Auron had just insisted that his Lord was in error and done so without using the honorific.  This was tantamount to a tantrum on the part of the warrior and the Summoner was almost amused.  He would have laughed if the situation were not so gravely important to him.

"Perhaps you do not understand, Auron.  This issue is not open for discussion.  When I finish this cup of tea I will go to the temple locks to see the man.  Once I am there, I shall ask him to accompany us.  I would prefer that you go with me and support me in this, but if you insist on being belligerent, I will go alone."  Strong, delicate fingers tapped together before the Summoner as he leaned against the table toward his Guardian.  It was a natural impulse for Braska to try to appease the warrior with touch, but Auron was too far away.  As a result, the man merely leaned in his direction to try and close physical distance.

"I must protest!  Braska, you know nothing of this man!  He may be a danger to you!"  Auron's face now showed clear consternation.

"All the more reason for my Guardian to attend to me," Braska replied calmly.

"I will **not** allow this."  Auron dug in his heels.

Braska was shocked.  This kind of response was completely unexpected and, unfortunately, could not be tolerated.  With an internal sigh, the Summoner pulled rank.  Drawing himself up he said in a stern voice, "Watashi no iu-tōri ni shiro!"

A hurt look of realization passed over Auron's face.  He had been arguing with his friend, but the man was also his Lord and Summoner.  This was an issue of the Journey and he must defer, no matter how he felt.  He bowed toward Braska and said contritely, "Gomen nasai, tono.  I apologize.  My words were inappropriate, at best.  I am only concerned for your well being…"

A sad look passed over Braska's face.  He hated to chastise his friend.  He loved Auron and did not want to discourage him from being familiar – yet he had his reasons for the decision and he would not allow the Guardian to change his plans.  "You are forgiven, Auron.  I understand.  You, however, must understand and support this in return.  Very little information exists about Zanarkand.  If this man is truly from the holy city, his information and help may be of great value to us.  I wish only to ensure the success of our Journey and to do all I can to protect you – as you protect me."  Braska reached forward a hand toward his Guardian, palm out, in a gesture of friendship.  "Please, come with me."

Auron sighed heavily and closed his eyes.  He reached out and clasped the offered hand over the table.  "I am your Guardian, my Lord.  I will obey your command."  The warrior released Braska and rose from his seated position on the floor.  "You have only half a cup of tea left.  I must change.  Please excuse me."

Braska nodded unhappily as Auron bowed and crossed the floor of the common room toward the master's quarters.  Emerline came in from the gardens with a basket of cut flowers and greeted the Summoner formally before beginning to arrange them in a vase on the mantle.  Shana, having heard every word of the conversation from the kitchen, decided it was time to put in her two cents.  Taking Auron's place under the pretext of clearing his tea things, she sat and spoke.

"Lord Braska, I couldn't help hearing.  Are you sure what you are doing is wise?  Auron does have a point."  The gray haired housekeeper wouldn't meet his gaze as she questioned the decisions of the Summoner.  It was rather presumptuous, but she liked the man and they had an understanding between them.  She was sure he would not be offended.

Chuckling, Braska smiled at Shana.  "Yes, I am sure.  I must do all I can, Shana, to ensure Auron's safety and my own."  The old woman looked up into the beautiful blue green eyes of the man across from her.  "I take no offense at his words.  It is his caring that motivates them."

The old woman nodded.  She was satisfied there was no rift between the young man she thought of as a grandchild and his Lord.  It pleased her.  

Auron returned wearing gray pants and his breastplate.  He crossed the room again to put on his modified red kimono and secure it with his weapons belt.  Thinking for a moment, he took the dashio set from the holder on the mantle.  Emerline stopped what she was doing to smile at the warrior and adjust the epaulet on his shoulder.  She said, "Lord Braska, I truly do like the new addition to Auron's attire.  It is such a pretty piece."

"Had it not caught Yuna's eye, I would never have thought of it.  When she visits, tell her you like it, Emerline.  It will please her."  Braska rose from the floor and moved toward the door.  He took his robes from the peg as Auron put on his boots.  The warrior moved to take up his Lord's helm and waited patiently as Braska adjusted his attire.  

"Thank you, Auron."  Braska smoothed his hands over the complicated garment and tucked up the amice that covered a large portion of his hair.  Taking the bulky headdress, he placed it on his head and turned to the two women.  "Shana.  Emerline.  Thank you for your hospitality.  It is always appreciated."  The Summoner performed the sign of prayer.

"You are welcome, Lord Braska.  Come again whenever you wish.  It is always a pleasure," said Shana.  The housekeeper and young woman both returned the prayer motion.

"Auron."  Braska turned to his Guardian to confirm he was ready to depart.  He received a small, almost imperceptible, nod.  The Summoner opened the door and the pair left for the temple.

----------------------------

Braska and Auron descended the long circular stairwell that lead to the locks, the Via Purifico, and the onward to the Hall of Records and the Well.  Stopping to speak with a guardsman coming off rotation, the two had learned that the prisoner was surly, loudmouthed, and insisted his name was Jecht.  The warrior had tried one final time to dissuade Braska from his chosen course to no avail.  Both could feel through the Call that they were stubbornly set in their opinions on the matter and would come to no meeting of minds.  The warrior loitered behind his Lord, sulking, and thumbed absently at the hilt of his katana.

Nearing his goal, Braska's steps quickened in anticipation.  A page announced their arrival to one of the Crusaders on duty.  The young woman placed a recording sphere on a nearby post and activated to record the visit with the prisoner.  The pair of guards then performed the sign of prayer to the Summoner as he strode with purpose toward the cell.  Braska came to a stop before the grate and gazed on the man inside with interest.

"Who are you?" Jecht asked.  His voice was curt and he didn't bother to get up.

"You are the one they call Jecht, the man from Zanarkand, are you not?" Braska inquired politely.  

The blitzer looked the Summoner up and down as though he were a three-headed cat.  "What of it?"  Jecht's tone was downright belligerent.

Having been outdistanced by Braska, Auron rushed to catch up and darted into the chamber to take his place beside his Lord.  He'd heard the tone that Jecht used and it agitated him.  "Watch your tongue, knave!"  The warrior leaned toward the iron cell grating in a threatening manner.

Braska turned to Auron and a look passed between them.  It was clear that the Summoner wanted no more of that kind of behavior from the Guardian.  Seeing that Auron understood, he nodded lightly and then turned his attention back to the man in the cell.

"My apologies.  I am Braska, a Summoner."  The fine boned face smiled placidly.  "I have come to take you from this place."

Jecht's eyes narrowed with interest.  He decided to get a better look at the man in the strange outfit.  He got up and approached the grating of the cell.  "Sounds sweet," he said.  He crossed his arms over his chest and his dark eyes bore down on the Summoner.  His voice was filled with suspicion when he asked, "What's the catch?"

Unable to help himself, Braska laughed.  "That easy to see, was it?"  Schooling himself, the Summoner put on a straight face and began to approach the reason for his visit.  "I soon leave on a pilgrimage…to Zanarkand."

Dark brown eyes flashed open and Jecht went right for the kill.  "Seriously?"

The fact that the man in the cell was completely untrusting was not lost Braska.  The Summoner was concerned.  He wondered if he had been mistreated.  With a solemn look on his face, Braska nodded at Jecht.  "I would like you to join us."  Braska held nothing back.  He had to gain this man's confidence.  "It will be a dangerous trip.  Yet, if we do reach Zanarkand…my prayers will be answered, and you will be able to go home, we think."  The Summoner implied that Auron agreed with his decisions regarding the man in the cell.  Though he knew that the warrior had concerns and reservations about the matter, he was certain that his honor and vows would not allow the monk to refute this implication.  Braska needed the man from Zanarkand.  Yevon had brought them together.  Nothing was going to stand between him and the Final Aeon.

"Great, let's go!" Jecht readily agreed to the situation with only scant information.  He was sick of being in the cell and even sicker of the fact that no one seemed to know who he was.  Everyone knew who Jecht was!  He was the most famous man, alive or dead, in the history of Zanarkand.  For that matter, the idiots in the uniforms didn't seem to believe that Zanarkand existed.  They weren't a friendly bunch either.  He'd tried, at first, to make conversation and gotten only stoic faces and monosyllabic responses.  When friendly overtures had met with silent response, he tried getting pushy and throwing his weight around.  That had gotten even less reaction.  Finally, in frustration, he'd gotten pissed off and shouted for a while.  Getting a quick outcome to that, some huge blue monster of a bi-pedal cat had come in, growled at him from the other side of the cell, and then put his paws forward.  The result had been that Jecht was enveloped in multicolored light and fallen fast asleep in no time flat.

Braska seemed worried that the man had agreed so fast.  "So quick?"

Ever blunt, Jecht responded, "Anything to get outta here!"

The Summoner shrugged.  He understood.  Braska had been in confinement before and it was not an enjoyable experience.  "Then it's settled."

Auron had watched the exchange with growing alarm.  He'd hoped that things might go badly – that the man would prove to be ill, or would be so obviously disturbed, and Braska would give up the absurd notion of bringing him along.  Now, with hardly any ceremony, the two had made a pact to Journey!  "But…I must protest!"  The warrior made a last ditch effort to stop this from happening.  "This **drunkard**, a Guardian?"  The distain in his voice was practically tactile.

Jecht turned his attention to the young man in front of him.  He was done putting up with insolence and other people's bullshit.  He wanted out of here and this jerk was now an obstacle.  "Hey!  You wanna step in here and say that?" he growled.

The testosterone level was rising astronomically.  Braska turned to Auron and tried to control the situation.  "What does it matter?  No one truly believes that I, a fallen Summoner wed to an Al Bhed, could possibly defeat Sin."  The soothing voice reached out to the warrior and wrapped him in logic.  "That is what they say.  No one expects us to succeed."

A look of concern crossed Auron's face.  The way his friend was treated by others in the temple upset him.  Braska was a kind and good-hearted person.  The Call spoke to him and told him that his Lord was unhappy and melancholy.  He realized he was adding to Braska's mood.  "Braska, sir…"

The Summoner interrupted him.  "Let's show them they are wrong."  A wry smile played across Braska's lips, as though he were sharing a private joke.  "A fallen Summoner, a man from Zanarkand…and a warrior monk, doomed to obscurity for refusing the hand of the priest's daughter."  He looked at Auron with a strange expression of satisfaction.  "What a delightful irony it would be if we defeated Sin!"

The blitzer, forgotten as the Summoner and Guardian became absorbed in one another, was tired of waiting around.  His need to be the center of attention, and to get out of the cell, trumped all other concerns.  Jecht interrupted the meaningful look that was passing between the Summoner and Guardian with a terse directive.  "Stop gabbin' and get me outta here!"

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~ 


	4. Bevelle: Chapter Three, Weapon of Choic...

**Notes:**  The dialogue of the conversation with Jecht in the locks is verbatim from the US release of Final Fantasy X.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

**Braska's Journey  
Bevelle – Chapter Three – Weapon of Choice**

"Ahh..Free at last!"   Jecht stood outside the locks facing the water of the Via Purifico, stretching.  The man from Zanarkand didn't know it, but he'd been fairly close to being tossed into the water and left to fend for himself against the guardian worm.  

"Now, Jecht…I am in your hands until we reach Zanarkand."  Braska came to stand next to the disheveled blitz player.  The man needed a bath, a shave, and his clothes washed.

"Right, right," Jecht said absently.  This man was a ticket out of here and could get him home.  That was all that was important to the blitz star.  "So, what's a Summer-ner, anyway?"

Since the man from Zanarkand was no longer a prisoner, the Crusader turned off the sphere.  She was a little shocked by Jecht's question and took it upon herself to tell the obviously Sin affected man the answer.  "I am sure you will remember in time.  A Summoner is one granted the power of the Aeon by the Fayth.  They go forward to fight Sin and bring The Calm to Spira."

Auron stood nearby and frowned; his eyes narrowing.  This man did not have the memory loss associated with Sin.  His odd insistence that he was from Zanarkand, and the fact that he was rude, did not add up to toxin stress.  Something was amiss.  He grudgingly began to wonder if his Lord was right.

"You may stay with me until we depart," Braska said to Jecht.  "My home is small, and space is limited, but I am sure that we will manage.  It will only be for a few days."

"My Lord, perhaps that is not wise," the warrior interjected.  Auron did not like the idea of this strange man staying with Braska and Yuna.  "I have an extra room at my home.  He may stay with me."  The monk's demeanor and the Call screamed out anxiety. 

"No, Auron."  Braska turned and smiled at his friend. "I have much to discuss with Jecht.  While you studied with me in the Hall for quite some time, it was not your strong suit.  I have done much more investigation into the records regarding Zanarkand.  Having him with me will allow me to question him – and he may, in turn, question me.  I am sure you understand."

Auron could not tell his Summoner what to do, but he was going to make his opinion known.  "My Lord, if I might have a moment with you **in private**."  The warrior glanced at Jecht.  He knew that Braska would sense his concern.

The Summoner sighed.  "All right, Auron."  He turned to Jecht and said, "I will only be a moment."

Jecht reached an arm up to rub at his sore neck.   He shrugged.  "Whatever."

Braska led Auron through the archway and into the hall a few paces from where Jecht stood.  He turned to face his friend.  "Well.  What is it, Auron?"

"I apologize, Braska, but I cannot stand here and say nothing!  That man reeks of sake, he is rude, uncouth, and his manner of dress is barbaric.  You are talking about letting him stay in your home with your child!  I must insist that he stay with me where I can keep an eye on him."  Auron's body language was stiff and his voice was practically a hiss.

Reaching out, Braska put his hands on the monk's shoulders.  "You have no idea how much it pleases me that you care for me, and for Yuna, so much.  But, I will not be dissuaded in this, Auron."  Blue green eyes searched the dark brown ones before him.   "Please…trust me."  

The warrior slumped slightly and sighed.  "I do trust you, Braska.  It is that man I do not trust.  At least promise to bring him to my home during the day."  Auron was reaching now for any reason to keep Jecht away from Braska and Yuna.  "I will need to gauge the man's fighting skills and obtain him weapons to ensure he will not slow us down."  

Braska chuckled and shook his head.  He knew Auron was stalling but he did have a valid point.  They knew nothing of Jecht's capabilities apart from the fact that his brute strength had enabled him to take out six Crusaders bare handed - a quite impressive feat for any man.  "I agree.  He will need a weapon.  You are the logical choice to determine his skills and select such a thing.  I will bring him to your home after the mid-day meal tomorrow.  I will spend the rest of the day with Yuna while the two of you make decisions regarding his outfitting."  Braska hesitated a moment before continuing.  "Perhaps you will eat with us?  You could bring Jecht back and stay for the evening meal…"

Auron smiled slightly and said something surprising.  "I will think on it, Braska."

In a year of asking, the warrior had never even said he would consider eating a meal in Braska's home.  The Summoner smiled widely with happiness.  "Really?"

"Yes, really."  Auron's eyes darted back to the scruffy man past the archway.  "If it means I can keep an eye on that ruffian, I would make friends with an Al Bhed – no offense."

The Summoner laughed heartily.  "Oh, Auron!  None taken…"  He removed his hands from the warrior's shoulders and gestured toward the archway.  "Jecht is waiting."

--------------------------

As promised, Braska arrived the next afternoon with Jecht in tow.  The man from Zanarkand was boisterous and familiar with Braska, but seemed uncomfortable around Auron.

"Auron, what are your plans?" Braska inquired.

The warrior had been kneeling in meditation position as he waited for his guests' arrival.  He was fully dressed with a complete compliment of armor and one of his massive swords strapped to his back.  "I will take Jecht to Wellak today.  My family arsenal is extensive, but the Master at Arms will have weapons and accoutrements that I do not."  Auron stood up and was now lacing his boots as he discussed his plans with his Lord.  "Additionally, there is much more space at the temple training facility and access to healers should it be necessary.  I would not want you to remain and take time away from Yuna, my Lord."

Braska turned to face Jecht.  "Well, I will leave you in Auron's highly capable hands, Jecht."  He smiled brightly at the blitzer.  The two had spent many hours in conference the night before and it was clear to the Summoner that the man, indeed, knew little or nothing about Spira and its history.  His tales of the great machina city of Zanarkand were amazing and almost unbelievable.  

_**A world with no Sin.  A land of peace and idleness.  A land where one lives on the water without fear…**_

"Sure, Braska.  Whatever you say."  Jecht balled a hand into a fist and pushed against it with the other to crack the knuckles.  "I'm always up for a good fight."  The man grinned widely.  "I don't know about a weapon though.  I've never needed anything but my fists to get me out of a jam, and I don't see where I want to change that."

Auron raised his eyebrows.  This man was insolent and it rubbed him the wrong way.  "You'll need one quickly enough once we begin the Journey.  One does not kill fiends without weapons and magic."  The warrior crossed his arms over his chest with authority.  He growled,  "And, no offence, but you do not seem the type to be a mage."

The Summoner suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.  This posturing between Auron and Jecht was comical and bordered on the absurd.  What was it about the two of them that made them instinctively want to fight?  "Now, Jecht, in this case you should listen to Auron.  He may be young, but he has trained many fighters in his time, and is considered to be one of the most skilled warriors in Bevelle.  Our world is very different from the Zanarkand you told me of.  Even if you decide not to use the weapon, it would be wise to be prepared – no?"  Braska's tone was smooth and designed to calm both men.  It seemed to work.  

"Like I said, Braska," Jecht replied.  "Whatever you say goes."  

"Good.  I will leave you both to it."  The three turned and headed out the door.  As they crossed through the moss garden and reached the footbridge, Braska tentatively ventured an inquiry.  "Auron, you mentioned yesterday that you might join us for dinner…"

Auron almost winced.  He didn't want to turn down the offer, but he had to.  "I am sorry, Lord.  Kinoc has said he will visit with Emerline tonight and I may not have another chance to try and bridge that distance."  His voice was sad.  "I truly am sorry.  I do want to come."

Braska stopped leading the group and turned to face the Guardian.  "I understand, Auron.  There will be many nights of the Journey for you and I to share a meal.  Though I would like for you to meet Yuna one day, attempting to repair your friendship with Kinoc is much more important.  I wish you luck."

"Thank you."

The trio arrived at the lime washed wall that separated Auron's home from the street.  "Well, Jecht, I will see you this evening."  The Summoner smiled and performed the sign of prayer as he prepared to depart.  "Stay close to Auron.  The temple is a very large place and it would not do for you to become lost."

-----------------------------

Auron led Jecht, brusquely, through the walkways to the temple.  A few Crusaders greeted him as he moved with purpose toward his goal.  He simply waved in return.  

Jecht kept up with the younger man easily.  He was a sportsman and, in spite of the fact that he'd trained with less frequency than normal recently and hit the bottle a bit often, his body was still in excellent condition.  In no time, the two were outside the massive iron bound doors that led to Wellak's training mats and the armory.

~~_Braska wasn't kiddin'.  This place is huge!_~~

The warrior monk pushed the doors open to the sound of ringing steel.  It had been weeks since he last taught, and he was forbidden to assist his Weapons Master now as part of his Censure.  Though he had a new life now as a Guardian, he missed his work, and being in the training area held a pang of loss.

Auron closed the door after Jecht stepped inside.  The man from Zanarkand's eyes darted around the room; trying to nonchalantly take in the display before him.   

A group of young boys, all dressed identically in white gi, were moving fluidly through a kata as a man in full battle dress led them.  Another man moved between the students and pulled some of the youngest aside when they made errors in form, correcting position and then returning the student to the formation when satisfied.

Past this group, several pairs of fighters sparred.  They danced intricately around each other with swords, knives, staves, spears, and other weapons – attempting to make contact with their opponents.  Beyond them, a group of three young men, swords in hand, were being shouted at by an old guy in a breastplate.  Jecht watched as Auron grinned and pointed toward the white haired firebrand saying, "That is Wellak.  Be respectful, Jecht, or he **will** knock you on your backside."

The man from Zanarkand grunted.  Auron's countenance had changed from the moment he reached the door.  He somehow seemed taller to the blitzer.  He realized, from years of competitive sport, that they were officially on Auron's  'home turf.'  It made the older man a bit uncomfortable.  Bravado was in order.  "Right!  That geezer couldn't touch me."

Auron arched an eyebrow.  "Oh really?  You think so?"  This man needed to be taught some manners.  "Come."

Several people stopped to stare as Auron and Jecht crossed the mats to approach Wellak.  The warrior gritted his teeth and ignored it.  They were likely being stared at as much for the audacity of Auron walking around the temple after Censure, as they were for Jecht and his outlandish looks.  

//_Ignore it.  You are a Guardian and have every right to be here._//

The warrior came to a halt near his former instructor.  He knelt on the mats and touched his head to the floor, as he did for many years under Wellak's tutelage.  "Sensei, I come to ask a favor."

Jecht was confused.  Auron was kneeling on the ground and acting like this octogenarian was some kind of man to be worshiped.  He crossed his arms over his chest and waited to see how it played out.

"Get up, Auron.  Until a few weeks ago, you were my assistant.  You don't need to do that with me, son."  Wellak left his students to continue their sword kata and stood over Auron.  "What do you need?"

"Lord Braska has requested that this man accompany us on the Journey."  Auron sat up.  "I must determine his fighting skills and to procure him weapons."

The old man looked over to Jecht and trained an appraising eye on the blitzer.  "What is your name?"

"Jecht," the blitzer said.

"And with what weapons have you been trained?  What is your profession?"

"I've never needed anything but my fists."  Jecht's tone was arrogant.  "And I play blitz."

Wellak arched an eyebrow.  This information seemed incongruous.  The man was built like a stone block.  Unless you were a Ronso, blitzers were compact and fast.  "A blitzer?  You do not look like a blitzer to me."

Jecht's eyes narrowed.  "What's that supposed ta mean, **old man**?"

The two looked at each other as Wellak addressed Auron.  "And the Lord Braska wants this…**man**…to accompany you?"  He grunted.  "What on Spira for?"

Auron rose from his kneeling position and said to Wellak, "He claims he is from Zanarkand and my Lord believes him."

Wellak's eyes shot open as he turned to face Auron.  "This is the man from the locks?"

"'Excuse me.  I'm standin' right here, buddy."  Jecht was getting tired of people talking about him like he wasn't in the room.  It had been going on for several days now and there seemed to be no sign of stopping.  If people were going to talk about him, they were supposed to use a tone of awe and reverence, not disdain and incredulity.  

Wellak completely ignored Jecht.  "Well, this should prove interesting, Auron.  I suspect you have a plan and do not necessarily wish my assistance in this."

The warrior nodded.  "Yes, Sir.  However, I would be honored if you wished to observe our sparing."

The old man turned to face Jecht who was seething at being ignored.  "You, will come with me."  Wellak turned and headed for the armory.

Jecht didn't know what to do.  He looked at Auron, who was standing in the middle of a mat looking rather smug.  The blitzer glared at the monk.  "What the hell is this place anyway?  What is it you do?"

"I am a Warrior Monk."  Auron took three steps toward Jecht and got into his body space.  His voice was low and controlled.  Anyone that knew the warrior would know that his patience was just about gone.  "My sole purpose in life, as Guardian to my Lord Braska, is to look after his safety and to ensure that he reaches Zanarkand alive to obtain the Final Aeon and defeat Sin.  I have trained in fighting arts and magical skills since the age of five in this temple."  He pointed in the direction of the armory.  "Now follow my Master at Arms so we may determine a weapon for you.  I will not have you be unprepared and cause injury to my Lord."

Auron and Jecht stared each other down.  The blitzer raked the younger man over, then thought about Braska.  He didn't like this 'warrior monk' much, but the Summoner was the only person that had believed him since this nightmare started a few days ago.  There was something about Braska that Jecht couldn't define – something so open and honest.  It was disconcerting.  The whole damn situation was bewildering and he hated feeling out of control.  It rubbed him the wrong way.  Now, Auron was standing here trying to push him around and he was starting to feel intimidated. Jecht detested feeling intimidated.  The fact was, he didn't have a lot of choices at the moment.  If he wanted to find a way home, he was stuck with Auron.  The monk was a package deal with the Summoner and, like it or not, it was the only option he had right now.  

"Fine," Jecht growled.  He put his cards on the table.  "Let's just be clear, **Auron**.  I don't like you.  You don't like me.  I'm not looking for a damn thing but a way home.  I find another besides you and your **Summoner**, and you can get to Zanarkand how ever you fuckin' want.  Until then, stay the hell out of my way."

Jecht turned on his heel and stalked off after Wellak.  Auron watched through narrowed eyes as the form receded.  He glared at the back of the man from Zanarkand.

//He may be an uncouth barbaric jackass, but at least I know where I stand.//

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


	5. Bevelle: Chapter Four, The Markeplace

**Notes**:  We've got some Japanese folks…  
**Kisama:** A very rude form of "you" that is normally translated as "bastard."  (My kanji book shows the symbol as meaning "King of Donkeys"...hmm)  
**Kura**: A shop that makes sake. (My kanji book says "storehouse")

**Conventions:**  Don't forget now…  
**//SOMETEXT//** are Auron's thoughts   
****SOMETEXT**** are Braska's thoughts  
**~~SOMETEXT~~** are Jecht's thoughts

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

**Braska's Journey  
Bevelle – Chapter Four – The Marketplace**

Auron stood before a wall of swords, considering the available options.  The spar with Jecht yesterday had been interesting.  The man clearly had never held a sword before, but was a quick study.  The man from Zanarkand was strong – **very** strong – and was surprisingly agile and quick for his build.  After a quick hand-to-hand session, Auron led Jecht through a short set of kata moves.  Wellak, curious and eagle eyed, handed the blitzer progressively heavier blades.  Though he had performed the kata rather hesitantly, Jecht had gone through the weightiest swords available in the armory without tiring significantly.  

Finally, Wellak had looked at Auron through narrowed eyes and said,  "Give the man your sword."

At first, Auron had thought to protest.  No one had ever wielded his Grandfather's blades but him.  Then, he realized that the aged Master at Arms was right.  They had to know Jecht's capabilities and limitations.  Auron stood back a few steps and drew forth the massive katana.

Jecht's eyes had widened slightly as the warrior monk slid the blade from its sheathe and moved to hold it, one handed, upright before him.  Then, Auron twisted his wrist and fluidly brought the tip of the sword to rest lightly on the mat.  "Try this," he said.

The blitzer could tell by the monk's body language that he was not happy about letting go of his weapon.  Jecht looked Auron up and down carefully before moving forward to take hold of the blade.  He wasn't sure exactly why, but he could tell that there was something significant about the warrior allowing him to use the sword.  It made him uneasy.

Wellak moved to stand next to his former assistant.  "Let it go, Auron.  It is only a piece of metal."

The monk stood, arms crossed over his chest, and watched as Jecht hefted the sword.   The man from Zanarkand clumsily moved through the four kata positions he had been shown.  For the first time, the Master at Arms and the warrior monk noticed the blitzer strain a bit to complete the final move.  The powerful muscles of the man's arms bulged and rippled.  

"Do not stop," said Wellak raising a hand to make a circular gesture.  "Continue the movements again, Jecht.  Do them over and over until you can no longer hold the blade upright."

Jecht couldn't help his reaction to the directive.  He looked at Auron for some sign of approval.  

~~Why the hell do I care what **he** thinks?  Because it's his sword?~~

Surprised that the blitzer was waiting for some kind of sign, Auron nodded an affirmative.  A strange look passed between the two and Jecht began to move the blade again.

The two men standing on the side of the mat observed intently as Jecht wielded the massive sword.  Over and over he repeated the movements, each time becoming a bit more confident.  A sheen of sweat began to show on the scared body of the man from Zanarkand and he grunted as he began to tire.  Auron's eyes widened as Jecht pushed through the burning of his muscles and continued the kata yet again.  

//I can't even wield the blade **that** long!//

"Auron," Wellak turned his head away from the blitzer to speak to his former assistant.  "If you do not mind, I would give you a bit of advice regarding this."

The warrior, astounded, simply nodded.

"If I were you, I would select this man a lighter sword that he might use as he learns how to correctly wield a blade.  If his skill with a blitzball is even passable, he may also use one of modified design to attack flyers and other creatures as you Journey without fear of him injuring himself or your Summoner."  The gray haired man turned to fully face Auron.  "As I recall, you mentioned that you became acquainted with a man in Luca who had apprenticed with your Grandfather.  When you arrive there, I would commission him to create a sword for Jecht.  This 'man from Zanarkand' is a quick study.  If you teach him as you travel, he should be skilled enough by Luca to wield a large glave without taking off your head, or that of Lord Braska, during battle."

Auron looked at Wellak and nodded again as Jecht finally came to the end of his ability to hold the sword aloft.  "Yes.  I will do as you suggest."

And so, today, Auron stood in the shop of a weapons maker trying to select an appropriate training weapon for Jecht that would also serve combat functions for the first leg of the Journey.  He frowned.  Nothing seemed quite right.  It needed to light, but not too light.  It had to be well balanced and slightly bulky, but not too long or dual handed.  Finally, a glint of silver and red caught his eye.  

Slightly longer than a standard katana, the steel was sinuously curved upon itself to create a dual edged weapon.  The haft was long enough for it to be wielded two-handed but Auron could tell by the design that the blade would be light enough for one-handed use.  He called to the shopkeeper and had the piece brought to him for inspection.  He ran a gloved thumb along the steel and checked the edge.

//Fine workmanship.  Sharp./

Motioning with a hand for the salesman to stand aside, Auron flicked his wrist and twisted the sword in his hand.  He swiftly moved through a six-position kata that used both single and dual-handed stances.  

//Nice balance point.  A bit flimsy for some fiends, but useable for sparing…I will have the piercing weapons and Jecht will also have a ball…Of course, Braska always has the Aeon…// 

"Hn."  The warrior grunted his approval.  "And how much are you asking for this weapon?"  

The shopkeeper responded with the expected high price and Auron had to suppress a sigh.  He detested haggling.  He disliked it immensely and found it tedious.  The few times he had been required to bargain he had always found a way to place himself quickly at an advantage and trumped the situation by forcing his will.  He closed his eyes in thought and then made an offer.

"I will not pay that," he intoned in a low baritone.  "However, I might be persuaded to buy two items if you cut the price in half."

The shopkeeper made the expected whining denials about feeding several children and the slowness of sales.  It was all Auron could do to keep from exploding.

"That does not respond to my offer." he growled.  "Will you cut the price, or do I go to another shop?"

Auron's negotiation technique was completely outside the rules of etiquette and, had another person been within earshot, would have made for a huge loss of face for the person he addressed.  Lucky for Auron, he and the shopkeeper were alone.  The man finally responded with a real offer.

"I will not cut the price by half, but I will cut it a third if we agree on the second weapon and its price.  What else do you wish to buy?"

The two quickly came to a meeting of the minds over a modified blitzball called a blackout.  The enchantment on the weapon effected most fiends with blindness for a period.  Auron thought it a good compromise.  The troupe would travel through several areas with various types of elementals.  Better to have an overarching kind of enchantment that would work in almost all situations than an elemental one that might cause a target to be healed.  He would have preferred to obtain a ball that also had a sleep spell, but it would be too costly right now.  Braska's funds were somewhat limited.  As it was, Auron had decided to take the cost of Jecht's outfitting upon himself.  Thanks to his Grandfather's skills, and the fact that he rarely spent much of his pay from the temple, he had more than enough extra gil to absorb the expense.

Money was exchanging hands when someone entered the shop.  The warrior paid no attention until he heard a familiar voice say;

"Well.  I'll be damned.  If it isn't Auron; the fallen knight.  My day is starting to get interesting…"

The hairs on the back of Auron's neck rose and his eyes narrowed.  The warrior completed the transaction and took up the sword.  He placed the blitzball under his guard arm and turned.  "Tacat."

The auburn man stood near the doorway thumbing the hilt of his sword.  His voice was haughty.  "Don't you mean, **Sir**?  After all, you've been censured, Golden Boy.  You aren't **really** a monk anymore.  No command, no post, no position…no wife…"

Auron took a deep breath and his jaw tightened.  He was not interested in having a confrontation.  Braska and Jecht were waiting for him.  His voice hissed, "What do you want?"

Tacat ignored the question and put forward his own as he stepped toward the raven-haired man.  "Tell me, Auron, how does it feel?  I want to know."  Auron's interrogator ran his tongue over his lip and made a clicking noise as he closed the rest of the distance between them.  "Do you choke on envy at night when you think about your best friend getting what should be yours?"

Confusion played, unbidden, across Auron's face.

"You don't know, do you?  How interesting!"  Tacat leaned inward until his face was only inches from Auron's.  His voice was a taunting whisper.  "Kinoc didn't tell you?  Didn't mention that he got promoted to Second in your place…"

Shock registered in the russet eyes as Auron connected the facts.  Tacat was telling him the truth.  

//Why didn't I realize that at the Garrison?  He was wearing the uniform.  Why didn't Kinoc tell me?//

"You know," Tacat was so close to Auron that his breath was hot on his face.  The warrior monk's body, dressed in his Guard uniform, was almost touching that of the man he goaded.  A feral grin played across his face.  "That's the second blond you've screwed things up with.  Not much good with women, are ya?"

Auron's patience was almost at an end.  Growling out of the back of his throat, his hand reflexively clenched at the hilt of the sword in his hand - the leather of his glove creaked as it strained against the hard surface.  Russet eyes darkened to mahogany in anger as Auron attempted to hold himself in check.  

Tacat's smile grew wider.  "Oh, getting riled are we?"  His voice was filled with joy and anticipation.  "Hitting a bit to close to home, am I?  **Good**."  The auburn warrior monk pitched his voice low, the promise of violence filled his words.  "Let's take it outside where I can finish what I started on the Highbridge…Kisama!…"

The tension in the room was palpable.  Suddenly, the door to the shop opened again, spilling light across the two would-be combatants.  Braska entered.

"Auron, are you coming?  Jecht has finished at the kura and I wanted to…"  The Summoner's words stopped as he took in the scene before him.  The emotions rolling off his Guarding slammed into him and his eyes opened in surprise.  "Is everything all right?"  His even voice was concerned.

"Fine," Auron replied curtly through clenched teeth.  "I was just leaving."

The red-clad warrior made to move for the exit and Tacat used his body to block him.  The monk put lips to Auron's ear and hissed, "I still have unfinished business with you, Auron.  I always keep my promises.  You are a dead man."

Auron's head snapped to look into Tacat's eyes.  His voice was filled with disdain.  "And you are an adolescent **fool**, Tacat."  The warrior slammed his shoulder into the guardsman to push him out of his way and strode toward Braska without looking back.  His red robe fluttered angrily around his legs and he swept past the Summoner to throw open the door of the shop.  Without a word, he exited.

Braska stood there, amazed.  He looked at Tacat, and then at the open door where his Guardian had left a moment before.  He longed to question the warrior monk that stood there, but the look of brutal cruelty that reflected from Tacat's eyes stayed the priest.  Finally, Braska turned and left – closing the door behind him.

Auron was down the walkway, leaning against the side of an artists shop with his eyes closed.  The pained expression on his face was unlike anything Braska had ever seen.  The Call told him that the younger man was a maelstrom of emotions.  He walked over, and Auron raised his head to look at his Lord.

"Auron, what was that about?"

The reply was abrupt.  "Nothing"

"It did not look like 'nothing' to me."  Braska sighed, an expression of worry on his face.  "Who was that?"

"Braska, I do not want to talk about it."

The priest stood there, looking at the warrior and considering the options.  

**I could force this issue.  That man could be a problem and I should know what this is about on a purely defensive level.  But, pushing could make tension.  There's already too much because of Jecht…**

Braska decided to let it go.  He was just about to say something when Jecht did it for him.

"There ya are!  What happened?" The cocky blitzer was closing the distance swiftly with a cast of sake under one arm.  "I turned around and everyone was gone!"  His tone betrayed him.  The man from Zanarkand was little unnerved by finding himself alone.

Smiling at Auron, Braska addressed the blitzer.  "We were just taking care of your weapons, Jecht."  He put a reassuring hand on the warrior's shoulder.  "Why not show them to their new owner, Auron."

The Call passed a feeling of relief to the Summoner.  Braska hoped that Auron could tell he only wanted to be supportive.

Jecht and Auron quickly fell into a discussion regarding the items the warrior had obtained.  An expression of mild amusement on his face, Braska observed as the warrior turned over the sword and attempted some instruction.  Jecht slashed the sharp blade in the air at random and made a few boisterous comments about not needing to be told how to use the thing.  It was everything the Summoner could do to keep straight faced when the blitzer almost cut Auron's ponytail off at the shoulder blades.  

The warrior snatched the weapon from the blitzer's grasp.  It was clear to Braska that Jecht felt contrite about the blunder.  The man from Zanarkand attempted to apologize, but the warrior was so enraged that he didn't notice.  Auron got in Jecht's face and started a tongue-lashing that would have made any other man cringe in terror.  The look on Jecht's face held no fear – it held anger.  The Summoner was, again, startled.  He could tell that Auron was coming almost unhinged and that Jecht was about to call him out.  

**Why is he responding to Jecht like this?  I do not understand it.  Yes, the man is a bit different.  But that is to be expected.  One must make allowances for differences in culture…**

Braska intervened.  "Auron."  He said sternly.  He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and the warrior spun to face him.  "Jecht is sorry.  He said so.  I am sure he has learned his lesson."

The look on the warrior's face said that he didn't believe Jecht had learned a damn thing.

"If he does something stupid like that when we are engaged in battle he will get you killed, my Lord!"  Frustration rolled off Auron in waves.  His voice was pitched high and loud.  "He is an irresponsible, uncouth, self-centered, reckless, drunk!"

//He is just like Tacat.//

"**Hey!**"  Jecht was finished.  He was done.  The fact that Auron was a package deal with Braska no longer mattered.  It was time to show this young man who was boss.  His voice was loud and livid.  **"That's it!  You and I are gonna tango!"**

Braska's eyes flew wide and he did the only thing he could think of, he jumped in front of Jecht as the blitzer threw a right hook at Auron.  The fist contacted the Summoner in the shoulder and he dropped to the ground in pain.  Both Guardians looked at the man on the pavement, stunned.  

Auron dropped to his knees at Braska's side, full of remorse. "My Lord!  Are you all right?"

//Oh Yevon!  This is my fault.//               

Jecht stood there, looking ashamed.  "Braska, what the hell did you do that for?!  I didn't wanna to hit **you**."

~~Why did I let that little punk get to me like that?!  Damn it!~~

"I am fine, Auron."  Braska waived the warrior away from him and pushed himself to all fours as he prepared to stand.  His voice was sad.  "I can not allow you two to fight.  It is wrong.  Violence is wrong.  You will never fully resolve a problem with aggression – you will only perpetuate misunderstanding."  The Summoner stood and brushed at his robes and addressed the blitzer.  "Jecht, you do not know me well.  It is impossible for you to know how I abhor hostility."  He then turned to face his young Guardian.  Braska's face was the picture of displeasure.  "But you, Auron, know better.  I am **very** disappointed."

Auron's eyes squeezed shut and his head dropped in shame.  He exhaled deeply.  "Forgive me, Lord.  It will not happen again."

"Auron," Braska responded firmly, "I am not the one you need to request forgiveness from."

The warrior set his jaw and turned to face Jecht.  He performed the sign of prayer, bowing low at the waist and said, "I apologize for my rude behavior and hasty words, Jecht."

The blitzer stood there looking ill at ease and said, "Yeah.  Well.  I'm sure I'll say something to piss you off too.  We'll call it even."  

The red-clad man raised his head to look at Jecht.  His expression was confused.

//Did he just accept my apology, or do I need to stand here?//

Jecht looked increasingly embarrassed as Auron remained bowed at the waist.  Finally, he said in frustration, "Jesus, Auron.  Stop that bowin' shit.  You're makin' me uncomfortable…"

Braska let out a sigh.  He looked on as Auron up righted himself and the two seemed to put the argument behind them.

**Well, at least it is detente.  They are so alike in so many ways.  Why do they not see it?**

"Auron, Jecht and I should be getting back.  It is almost time for the evening meal.  I assume that you will be eating with Shana tonight since we will leave in the morning."

The warrior nodded his head.  "What time and where shall we meet, Lord Braska?"

The Summoner rubbed at his sore shoulder.  "We will meet at the temple just before dawn."  A meaningful look passed between Braska and Auron.  Both knew why the man wanted to leave that early.  He couldn't face Yuna.  

"Dawn?" Jecht said.  "Isn't that a touch early?"  

~~What the hell?  I'm NOT a morning person.~~

"Is the breezeway near the exit to the Highbridge a satisfactory meeting place?"  Auron inquired.  He ignored Jecht's question.

Braska nodded.  "That will be fine.  We will see you then."

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~


	6. Bevelle: Chapter Five, Farewells

Notes:  Ok.  With addition of one word at beginning, dialogue between Kinoc and Auron is verbatim from FFX US release.

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

**Braska's Journey  
Bevelle – Chapter Five - Farewells**

Yuna adored Jecht.

From the moment the blitzer entered Braska's home, the girl attached herself to him.  Both Braska and the man from Zanarkand were a bit surprised by her behavior.  Jecht, who was a show off, but uneasy around kids, didn't know why the girl seemed so smitten.  It made him uncomfortable.  It made him think about his son.  

The priest noticed that something was wrong.  He tried to get Yuna away from the man to no avail.  Jecht forced laughter and tried to be kind, but it was clear to Braska that it was an act and he didn't understand why the blitzer kept doing it - it only egged her on.  Yuna giggled and hugged the man from Zanarkand, rubbing her face on his; exclaiming, "You have fur!  It tickles!"

"I am so sorry, Jecht."  Braska said after the girl had gone to bed the first night.  She had pouted and cried and the Summoner had been forced to be stern with her.  "I do not know what has gotten into Yuna.  She **never** behaves that way!  Normally, she is a very polite and well mannered child – almost strangely so."  The priest seemed almost mortified.

Jecht had waived it off with his usual bravado.  "Ah.  Don't worry about it, Braska.  Kids are kids.  Who knows what the hell they think in their little heads.  I sure don't…"  A frown had flitted over the blitzer features as he thought of little Tidus and his mother.  He banished it with a leer and a chuckle.  "Besides, I do that kind of thing to women…"

Braska was perplexed.  "Jecht, I do not mean to pry.  Of course, you may tell me to mind my own business, but – do you have…family in Zanarkand?"

The shadow washed again over the blitzer's face. His answer was a bit rough and abrupt.  "Yeah."

**Oh.  I see.  He misses them and it hurts.**

A look of compassion graced Braska's face.  He crossed the room to the low couch were the man from Zanarkand was sitting.  It would be Jecht's bed for the next three nights until their departure.  "I did not know, Jecht."  The Summoner put a hand on the blitzer's shoulder and he winced.

He waived it off gruffly.  "How could ya?"

"Perhaps…"  Braska moved to sit next to Jecht, his hands clasped tightly before him.  His voice was earnest and empathetic.  "It might help if you talked about them?  I have so many questions about your home.  So little is known about Zanarkand."  The Summoner bowed his head.  "Would you tell me about it?  About them?"

Jecht had been silent for long moments.  Braska was sure he was holding back tears.  Then, the man from Zanarkand did a quick intake of breath and pasted a sly grin on his face.  "Sure.  Why not?  Fire away."

They had stayed up all night talking.  Braska was so intrigued by the man.  He reminded him of Auron.  Two people, one for the public and one for private, trapped in the same body – warring with emotions and pretending they didn't have them.  The Summoner knew what motivated his young Guardian's taciturn exterior and tight reign on his feelings – his duty.

**What makes Jecht this way, I wonder?**

The world that Jecht described was amazing and almost unbelievable - a city that never slept, and bridges of light and water that arced across the skies.  People living in boats!  On the water!  No Sin!  No Summoners!  Glittering lights that lit up the skies like the sun itself.  It was incredible.

He spoke of his son, Tidus – a little boy of Yuna's age who wanted desperately to please his father and clung to the mother.  Then, Jecht spoke of his wife briefly.  The compassionate loving woman he described reminded Braska oddly of his own dead love.  The Summoner said as much, and Jecht began to ask questions of his own.  Before the two knew it, it was dawn.

Then it was off to Auron's home.  By the time he left the blitzer in the warrior's care, he was certain that the man from Zanarkand trusted him; that they had somehow forged a bond in the night.  Braska practically glowed with happiness.  Quirky though Jecht was, the Summoner was completely charmed by him.  

**How strange.  The Prayer Child said the Fayth had sent a man to help me.  They also sent me a friend.**

Now, a short day later, it was almost time to go.  Braska had picked at his food, barely able to eat as he watched his daughter smile and be so animated.  She was the picture of her mother – so beautiful and charming.  He had left her with Jecht for a while and taken a walk with Karen to give her last minute reminders.  The Summoner knew they weren't necessary.  Yuna's nurse was a capable and responsible woman who took exemplary care of his child.  He was salving his own conscience, and Karen was kind enough to allow it with patience and dignity.  They discussed, for a final time, the arrangements he had made with the healer and apothecary for Yuna's education.  He inquired, again, about the schedule Karen would keep with Shana for the girl's religious instruction.  When he mentioned, for the fourth time, where he had placed the chest with the money, spheres, and spell books; Karen had stopped him.  "Lord Braska, are you **sure** you want to leave?"

"Karen, of course I do not **want** to leave her!  I love her."  Tears shimmered in Braska's eyes but they did not fall.  His voice was filled with resolve.  "But it is that love that drives me to this.  I have to stop that beast."

The two went back, and the Summoner rescued Jecht from his daughter.  She was braiding his hair and the poor blitzer was suffering through her attentions good-naturedly.  Though Braska knew his daughter brought difficult feelings to the fore where the blitzer was concerned, it impressed him how kind and careful the huge strapping man was with the girl.

Braska took over Karen's duties for the rest of the evening.  He got in the bath with Yuna and splashed about with her, making a mess of the floor as they both laughed.  He toweled her off; dressing her in her little nightgown.  Then, he combed her hair lovingly as she chattered.

Finally, it was time for the girl to sleep.  She asked him to tell her favorite story – the tale of Yunalesca and Zeon – and it wrenched at him.  He said he would, and then he began.

"Yuna, darling."  Braska stroked his daughter's hair.  "Do you remember how we talked and I said that I would go on a trip?"

The little head bobbed up and down.  

"…I said that I might be gone for a long time, but that it was very important, and that I would have friends with me to take care of me…"

The dual colored eyes shone in the pale light cast by a small lamp by the bed.  "Yes, father.  You said you would be a great Summoner like Yunalesca.  That you would visit the other temples to get the Aeons."

Braska smiled.  "That is right.  Well, I was waiting to leave on the trip until I knew you were ready."  The Summoner tried hard to keep his voice from quavering.  He knew that Yuna was a strong spirit and that, as long as he did not show his grief, she would accept what he said.  "You are casting spells now, and I know you will take good care of Karen.  I have spoken to some people, and they will help you learn more about the magic while I am away."

"Like Jecht?" the small girl questioned.  "Will he be here to help me?"

"No.  Jecht is here to help me.  He will go with me on my trip to keep me safe."  Braska then ventured something that might not fully register with the girl until later.  Leaning close to Yuna, he pitched his voice low, as though telling her a special secret.  "You see, Jecht is from Zanarkand!  He is here to show me the way.  With him at my side, I cannot help but gain all the Aeons and vanquish Sin.  No?"  He smiled and rubbed his nose against hers.

"Really!?  He is from Zanarkand!"  The small eyes were wide with delight.

"Yes.  Really!"  Braska thought the pain in his chest might kill him.  He couldn't stand it.  Reaching out, he pulled his daughter close in a tight embrace.  Blue green eyes squeezed shut against the tears that threatened.  He could not let Yuna see him cry.  "I will miss you very much, but I know you are strong.  Strong like your mother was."  He clasped a hand to the back of Yuna's head, feeling her soft hair.  "And I know that you will make me very proud by working hard and being a good girl.  Wont you?"

The little head nodded vigorously against Braska's shoulder.  "Yes, father.  I will."

"Good."  The Summoner took a deep breath to steel himself and drew away from the small fragile body.  "Now, where is your book?"  The smile on his face was forced.  "I will read you the story until you fall asleep."

-----------------------------

The evening meal in Auron's home held an undertone of sorrow.  He had already packed his things for the Pilgrimage and his travel bag, weapons, boots, and robe were waiting by the door.  He had stopped at the kura to have his tokkuri filled and to bring home a cask of sake for the meal.  It would not do to have such an important occasion pass without offering up toasts for health, good journey, and to the spirits of those in the Farplane who watched over them all.

Emerline and Shana had made all of his favorite dishes.  They served him formally, insisting on it when Auron tried to stop them.  He finally allowed it.  The warrior understood.  It was a way to tell him that they loved him.

After the meal, Emerline cleared the table and left Auron alone with the old housekeeper.  She could hear them talking as she washed the dishes.  

"Are you sure you have everything you need, Auron?  There is nothing you have forgotten?"  

"No, Shana," came Auron's response.  "I am sure."

There was a pause before the old woman's voice said, "Well, what time will you leave in the morning?  I'm sure you'll want a good breakfast and I can pack something for you to share with the others at the mid-day meal…"

That was when Emerline almost dropped the plate in her hands.

"No, that will not be necessary.  I will leave tonight."

The gasp that came out of Em's mouth was a mirror of the sound that floated from the common room.  "Tonight!  When?!"

"Soon.  In a few minutes."  The warrior's voice barely reached to the young woman in the kitchen.  "I have many people to say goodbye to at the temple, and Braska wishes to leave before dawn."

"But…you should rest!" came the protest.  Shana's voice had risen in pitch.  It was almost desperate.  

"I will stay with Wellak at the temple tonight.  I am sorry, Shana."  Auron's voice began to break.  "I simply cannot face you both."

Emerline leaned against the sink as silent tears fell from her eyes.  Her dreams were over.  In a few moments, Auron would walk out of the door.  The love of her life would leave her behind and she might never see him again.

She felt, more than heard, as the warrior came into the kitchen.  He stood behind her and brushed his hands up her arms.  "Em.  There are things I have to talk to you about before I leave.  Will you come with me to the dojo?"

The sandy-haired woman sniffled and nodded weakly.  She turned in Auron's grasp and tried to smile.  "Of course.  Whatever you wish."

The warrior took hold of her hand and led her out through the gardens and into the dojo.  He pushed open the screen and stepped into the weapons area.  Emerline had managed to master herself, and her curiosity had begun to get the better of her.  Auron walked to the middle of the room and began to pull up sections of the floor, revealing rows of locked chests.

"Em, some of these only contain keepsakes.  Clothing, scrolls, letters, spheres, and other things that have held meaning to me over the years.  One holds only items that belonged to Youke – things that neither Shana nor I had the heart to discard…"  He moved to a chest on the far left; taking a key from the pocket of his gray travel pants.  Unlocking the clasp, he flipped the lid open.  It was filled with gil.

"The others are like this.  Grandfather's skill and renown as a weapons maker brought him quite a lot of money.  Youke and I…well…neither of us ever spent much and we added our pay from the temple to the chests."  Auron closed the lid of the chest and locked it.  Replacing the floor panels, he turned to Emerline and extended his hand with the key.  "I have written a Will.  It has been filed with Simin at the Hall of Records and a copy is in my desk.  My home, and everything in it, now belongs to you."

The woman gasped.  "Auron!  I can't!"

The warrior drew himself up sternly.  "You must.  I have no family, Emerline.  I am the last of my line.  Shana must be cared for until her death, and I would not have this home to go a stranger."  The russet eyes bore into the young woman.  "Please, do this for me."

Trembling, Emerline reached out and took the key.  She stared at it in her hand.  "Auron, you will come back.  I know you will."  She looked up at the warrior and said firmly, "I will do this, but only on the condition that you will take this key back from me when you come home."

Auron took a deep breath and closed the small distance between he and the diminutive blond.  Swallowing hard, he took her chin in his hand and gazed into her green eyes.  His deep baritone voice was almost a whisper.  "Em.  I am sorry I could not be what you wanted.  I wish I could have loved you that way.  Please, find someone who will love you in return the way you deserve."  Then, he leaned down and brushed his lips to Emerline's.

Auron had never, in all the years she had known him, kissed her on anything but her hair or cheek.  She had dreamed of a moment like this, and it might be the only chance she would ever have.  The young woman flung her arms around the warrior's neck and pressed herself to him tightly.  She clung to him in desperation as she returned his tentative and chaste kiss with adore.  She poured all the love she felt for him into that moment as tears streamed down her face.  When it ended, they stood, looking at each other.

"Go, Auron."  Emerline whispered harshly as she looked at the floor.  "Go now.  I don't want the last memory you have of me to be that of a woman crumpled on the floor…"

The warrior stood there, torn.  The look of pain and confusion on his face was indescribable.  Finally, his jaw clenched and he stiffened.  "Goodbye, Emerline," he said.  Then he swept past her quickly and left.

-----------------------------

Farewells with Wellak were not difficult.  The old Master at Arms made it easy on the warrior.  Taking control of the situation, he talked of tactics and strategy.  Wellak also had a few items set aside for Auron.  He had culled a few rare potions and a particularly nice set of bracers from the armory.

"I'm sure someone might call it stealing, but I am the Master of Arms.  I can do what I like with my armor," Wellak growled.  "It's the least Inek owes you for the hell he put you through."

Wellak had seen a lot of action in his day, and had traveled all the way to Besaid before his commission at the temple.  He tried to impart what information he could to the young man as they sipped some tea.  Handing over old maps to Auron, he pointed out where he had marked the locations of travel stops and shelters.  "I am sure many of these are out of date, but it is better to have them than not.  The Mushroom Rock Road, as you well know, is not an easy path."

Then, the old man pushed Auron off to bed, and insisted on taking the settee in the common room.  The warrior tried to protest and got a gruff response.  "Are you talking back to me, boy?"  Auron simply shook his head, said, "No, Sensei," and marched off to the bedroom.

It seemed to Auron that he'd only just shut his eyes when Wellak shook him by the shoulder.  "Time to get up.  I'll cook you something while you get cleaned and dressed."

After a shower, the warrior ate his meal mechanically.  Wellak checked over the armor and made sure the warrior had forgotten nothing.  Then, a strange look passed over the old man's features.  "Auron," he said.  "Kinoc will be conducting inspection now.  In about twenty minutes, he should reach the outside of the antechamber to the Trials.  I got you up early enough.  You have time.  Go see him before you leave."

Auron sighed and put out a hand to his mentor.  "Sensei…Wellak…Thank you for everything."

The two clasped hands and the old Master at Arms smiled broadly.  "Just do me proud.  Take care of Lord Braska.  He's a good man."

Wellak dropped Auron's hand abruptly and opened the door.  "Better get going, boy.  You'll miss Kinoc."

-----------------------------

Auron was leaning, a foot propped on the wall, outside the entrance to the antechamber when the Second of Bevelle rounded the corner.  Kinoc's face registered no surprise at seeing the warrior there, though his body betrayed him.  He stiffened a bit.

"Auron."

The two looked at each other, standing a few feet apart in the breezeway.  Finally, the warrior spoke.  "Thanks for everything, Kinoc."

The sandy-haired man's face was obscured partially by his helmet and the newly grown beard.  He dismissed the comment by ignoring it.  "I know I don't need to tell you this," Kinoc said earnestly, "but guard Lord Braska well."

The warrior tried not to let his disappointment show.  When he had visited Emerline, Kinoc had rebuffed Auron's efforts to discuss the state of their friendship.  Their childhood was gone, and seemingly so was their bond.  Auron nodded his head in response to the directive.  He made a last ditch attempt to break the ice between them.  He brought up what Tacat had told him in the shop.  "And you'll be busy too.  I heard they made you second-in-command."

A flash of something passed across Kinoc's eyes.  His lips quivered a bit before he responded.  "You know that promotion was meant for you."  The monk's voice was suddenly filled with regret.  "You were always the better one, even until the end…"

Kinoc sighed and his shoulders slumped forward.  Auron wasn't sure what to do.  The warrior couldn't tell if it was in resignation or defeat.  He wondered, for a brief moment, if the sandy-haired man might cry.  Then, Kinoc seemed to master himself and stood up tall in his uniform.  

Suddenly, Auron didn't want things to end like this.  It all seemed so...final.  He grinned a bit and said, "You make it sound as if I was going off to die or something."  The warrior forced a light tone and gestured a bit.  "I **will **see you again."

The two locked eyes, more passing between them than could ever be said.  "Yes," Kinoc replied.  He didn't really believe it.

A silence ensued.  Neither one wanted to say goodbye, though they knew it had to be done.  Auron took the lead.  "Well then…"

Kinoc was reluctant.  "Going already?"

The warrior grunted with a nod.  He just couldn't trust his voice anymore.

//Braska and Jecht will be waiting.//

Tilting his head to the side a bit, the Second of Bevelle ventured a final request.  "You will tell me about Zanarkand when you return, won't you?"

Auron started to chuckle.  A smile spread across his face.  He knew how much Kinoc longed to be Guardian, and what it took for him to ask.  The ice had broken at last.  This was his boyhood friend whom he loved like a brother.  He nodded an affirmative, like a promise, and then he said, "Farewell."

Kinoc watched as Auron turned and strode away – his figure disappearing into the shadows of the temple corridors.  He closed his eyes, thinking back on the day they had met as young boys.  All the hours of sparing, the meals they had shared, and the closeness of youth rushed to the fore.  He could hear his father's voice, yet again, telling his mother what a special person Auron was and what a leader he would be.  The memory still stung, but not like it had for so many years.  Now, he nodded his head at the retreating figure in agreement.  He knew his father was right and had come to accept it in a strange way.  

Then, Kinoc did something Auron would have growled about had he known.  Smiling to himself, he reached a hand out and tapped off a recording sphere hidden on a post.  

++Well, my friend!  I know you hate to be recorded, but I have proof now.  A promise is a promise.  You are stuck.  If you return from Zanarkand, you'll tell me all…++

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~


	7. Macalania: Chapter One, Into the Woods

**Notes:** The dialogue of the conversation outside the gates of Bevelle is taken directly from the US FFX release.  There have been no changes, whatsoever, to the script.

Also, sorry for the delay.  I've been running after Mr. Plot Bunny on this one.  He keeps giving me character development – the little rat.  I think I've got him firmly caged now. ^_^

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

** Braska's Journey  
Macalania – Chapter One – Into the Woods**

The trio exited the temple well before dawn.  Braska took the lead, saying he had someone to see before leaving the city.  The Summoner made his way to the remains of the now destroyed docks.  A few vagrants and ladies of the night were loitering in the area.  Braska stopped to talk with one of the women.  He apparently knew her.  

Auron stood to one side and waited patiently.  He wasn't really surprised.  His Summoner had ministered to these people for several years and kept in close contact with some of his former flock.  Though the warrior admired Braska's dedication and idealism, his concern was not for those less fortunate.  His concern was for his selfless charge.  The man often overextended himself in his efforts to be of help to others.  On the Journey, the group would need the Braska's healing skills and magical abilities to survive.  Auron knew he would have to keep close watch on the Summoner to be sure he put his own health and welfare first.

Jecht wasn't sure what to make of the situation.  Watching the scene in curiosity, he hung back - a pack slung over his shoulder and the modified blitzball tucked under his other arm.  As Braska spoke to the woman, he began to idly play with the ball.  After a time, the Summoner nodded his head and handed something to her before performing the sign of prayer.  The woman returned it and the group set out for the Highbridge.

"So, Braska, what's that about?"  Jecht moved to walk next to the priest, the blitzball spinning on his index finger.

"Nothing really," Braska replied.  "I let Prak know that I was leaving and that I had made arrangements with an alchemist in the market."

The man from Zanarkand looked puzzled.  "What kinda arrangements?"

"Well, Jecht, I wanted to be sure that Prak and her friends would have access to healers." Braska began, "I suppose I am rather different from many people at the temple..."

Auron chuckled a bit at the priest's understatement.  The Summoner glanced over his right shoulder at his young Guardian and shot him a look.  The warrior responded by arching an eyebrow and shrugging.

"You see, I believe that all people are equal, Jecht."  Braska looked at the blitzer intently and they moved through the streets of the still sleeping city.  "There are many who think that women like Prak are not worthy in some way.  They feel they are beneath the notice of God.  These same people also despise the Al Bhed race.  They say that because they recover ancient machina and use them, Sin returns to our world to punish us.  I do not believe such teachings."

"Wait a sec."  Jecht stopped spinning the ball.  He tucked it under an arm and then reached back to rub his neck.  Head cocked to one side, he said, "Your wife, Rain, she was Al Bhed.  Right?"

Braska nodded at the scruffy man.  "Yes.  The Church was very unhappy, as were Rain's people, about our union.  It was not always easy, but we loved each other."  Braska smiled and looked off in the distance.  This voice dropped a notch and sounded wistful.  "Sometimes, that is enough."

Walking in silence, Auron listened closely to the conversation.  He was surprised at how much Jecht seemed to know about Braska.   A relationship seemed to have developed between the two in just a few short spans.  The warrior wasn't sure how he felt about the situation.  He didn't like the blitzer, plain and simple.  Auron wasn't convinced that Jecht was really from Zanarkand.  It was too unbelievable; too much of a coincidence.  

//Braska is too trusting.  I need to keep an eye on this brute.//

The party reached the edge of the city proper just before the break of dawn.  Lost in their own thoughts, they walked past the last of the watchmen.  The gates were opened and the group exited the walls that protected Bevelle and its inhabitance.

Jecht dug around in his pack.  Grinning, he darted ahead of Braska and Auron.  He had something small and blue in his hand when he turned around.  The man from Zanarkand, moving backward down the pavement, had activated the recording sphere in his hand.  

Auron sounded agitated as he questioned Jecht.  "What are you taking?"  The warrior hated being recorded.

//What does he think he is doing?  When did he get one of those?  This is juvenile!//

"Well, you said it was gonna be a long trip."  Jecht grinned, training the sphere on Auron and Braska as they walked toward him.  "We'll be seein' a lot of neat things, right?"  Jecht gestured boisterously with his free hand.  His voice was loud in the early morning air, echoing against the glass and stone that lined the walkway outside the city gates.  It grated on Auron's nerves.  "So, I thought I'd record it all in this.  To show my wife and kid, you know."

//Wife and kid?  **He** has a **wife**!? And a **child**?!//

Auron stopped in his tracks.  For some reason, the thought that this man had a family bothered him.  It was irrational, but it made him angry.  Frustrated with himself, the situation, and his absurd emotional reaction Auron got curt with Jecht.  "This is no pleasure cruise!"

Jecht stopped as well, but ignored him. "Hey, Braska," he called out.  The Summoner had overtaken him and was leaving the bickering pair behind.  He stopped when Jecht called his name.  The man from Zanarkand turned to face Braska and asked, "Ain't this supposed to be a grand occasion?"  The blitzer didn't understand why they were leaving so early to start.  It didn't make much sense to him.  Little Yuna was still asleep in her bed and Braska hadn't bothered to wake her.  He thought it was strange, and voiced his opinion in terms that made sense to him.  "Where's the cheering fans?  The crying women?"

~~Hell, I get more of a send-off at the dock of my houseboat before I go off to practice.  We're supposed to be savin' the world.  You'd think somebody'd care.~~

Braska slumped forward a bit shook his head – the long metal extension of his headdress bobbing as he did so.  He looked pensive.

**A grand occasion.  They do not even bother to wish us well on our Journey.  Perhaps it is for the best.**

"This is it."  Straightening, Braska turned to face Jecht as Auron strode past them both and down the walkway.  "Too many goodbyes – people think twice about leaving."

"Hmm.  If you say so," Jecht grunted.  Nothing about this world made sense.  "Well, it better be a lot more colorful when we come back.  A parade for Braska, vanquisher of Sin!"

Braska shook his head and laughed a bit at Jecht's comment.  He knew the man from Zanarkand couldn't possibly know what he had just implied.  The idea of people cheering his death seemed so ironic.

**I suppose there will be quite a celebration when Sin is gone…when I am gone…**

Sighing, he said sadly, "We should go.  Day will break soon."  The Summoner, lost in his thoughts, turned abruptly and walked off after Auron.

Jecht turned off the sphere and hurried to catch up.  


	8. Macalania: Chapter Two, Complications

** Braska's Journey  
Macalania – Chapter Two – Complications**

A paved road rapidly gave way to a well-worn dirt path.  Auron took point as the scenery changed from the park-like rolling meadows of Bevelle to the wild, leafy, crystalline tangle of Macalania woods.  The warrior had traveled the road many times and led confidently.  "Lord Braska," he said over his shoulder, "It would be best to take the light bridges.  Guard patrols reported increased activity on the low road.   The local fiends dislike bright light and the upper walkway should be relatively safe during the daylight hours."

Braska nodded in deference to his Guardian.  "I trust your judgment in this, Auron.  Jecht and I will follow your lead."

Auron made a sharp nod with his head in response.  Taking the light bridges would cut their travel time by two spans but, once on the pathway, there was no place to stop.  It would be a long hike for everyone, but the warrior felt it worth the cost.  He made a right turn when the path diverged.  

Jecht quickly caught up to Braska and the Summoner was answering queries as the pair walked along.  Question after question seemed to flow from the blitzer's lips.  After an exclamation regarding how funny the trees looked, Jecht wanted to know what they were made of; how they grew; how tall they got; if this was the only forest of them.  Auron sped up in an effort to outdistance the sound of the man's voice.  It didn't work.  

//Does he never close his mouth?  He is worse than an acolyte!  "Why? Why? Why?"//

Slowing, the warrior allowed the talking pair to catch up.  Distance wasn't going to solve the issues he had with the unruly blitzer.  All it would do was keep him from his charge, and he did not want to stray too far from Braska.  If fiends attacked, he would be needed.  Jecht wouldn't be able to wield the sword in battle and Auron had no idea if he could be counted on in a crisis situation.  Better to get a headache and be prepared.

A guard patrol passed as they neared the junction of the light bridge.  Auron signaled for Jecht and Braska to wait.  He spoke briefly with the four Crusaders.  One was on old friend from Djose who had recently transferred.  The warrior was pleased – not only to see a familiar face, but to get additional information on the road ahead.  

He returned to his Summoner's side and said, "Braska, they say the path near the Al Bhed travel stop has been clear several days.  We should be able to make lakeside by tonight."

Smiling, the priest replied, "Good.  We had best get started."  Braska strode forward and approached a shimmering band of light.  Without hesitation, he stepped onto the seemingly insubstantial surface and began to walk upon it – rising into the air.

Jecht blinked in amazement, his mouth opening a touch before he realized how silly he must have looked and clamped it closed.  His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he studied the walkway.  

Braska was already quite a distance away and had not slowed.  "Is there a problem, Jecht?"  Auron's voice was brusque.  Braska was getting too far ahead of them and the warrior didn't feel he could just leave Jecht standing in the forest.  He may have disliked the man, but Auron wouldn't leave anyone where a fiend might attack.

Continuing to stare at the light bridge, Jecht replied, "No."  He made no move toward the translucent band of light.  

"Then get going," Auron ordered.  "Standing in the open like this is unwise.  We will attract fiends."

Turning his head, Jecht glared at Auron.  He was feeling pressured and intimidated again by this stiff and he hated it.  "Get going yourself," he shot back at the warrior.  "I don't need a babysitter."

Auron's hand tightened reflexively into a fist.  It was obvious to the warrior that the man had no intention of getting on the bridge.  "Jecht, do not be ridiculous," he said through clenched teeth. "I simply need to take rear guard.  Now get moving.  Braska is almost to the top of the tree line."

The two stared at each other for a moment.  Auron was almost sure that Jecht was going to say something then, instead, the man turned and stalked toward the glittering band.  He stopped for a moment, and then slowly extended a bare foot - pressing it against the walkway.  

Auron had to suppress a laugh at the expressions that flitted over Jecht's face.  Surprise gave way to embarrassment before being replaced with a haughty look of confidence.  Disheveled hair whipped around Jecht's head as he turned to look at the warrior and said, "Well, what are you standin' around for?  Let's go."  

Shaking his head, Auron watched as the blitzer took off like a shot after Braska.  He stepped onto the thin strand of light and climbed after the pair - eyes searching for danger.  Even on the bridge, there was a chance they could be accosted.  Auron was never one to be caught unaware.  

Lengthening his stride, the warrior quickly caught up with the pair.  Jecht was making yet more inquiries.  This time, Auron paid attention to what was being asked.  The blitzer said casually, "So, Braska, what's a fiend?"

The Summoner patiently began to explain the origin of fiends and the existence of immortal souls.  Jecht seemed confused and a long conversation about the Farplane ensued.  Auron's russet eyes narrowed as he listened.  From the questions Jecht asked, it seemed clear that Braska had already explained at least some of the responsibilities of a Summoner.  Little comments, however, made one thing clear – either Jecht was an insensitive lout, or he had no idea that Braska was on his way to die.  

 //Why doesn't Braska say anything?  Those remarks…they have to hurt…//

Frowning, Auron stalked along behind Jecht as the party moved among the tops of the trees.  Huge spheres crowned the tops of the giants; refracting the sunlight and creating the rainbow colored bridges they walked upon.  Tiny facets in the crystalline structures produced a myriad of shifting shapes across the prism-like surfaces of the limbs.  But, the beauty of the scenery was lost on the warrior as he contemplated Braska's replies.  

Auron could tell that Braska was feeling tired.  He finally said something.  "My Lord, it is mid-day.  You need to eat."  

"Sounds great," said Jecht.  "I'm starvin'."

Braska nodded and the group stepped off the main path near an orb.  Auron reached in his pack and handed an apple to Braska.  Another was given to Jecht.  "There are travel rations in your bag."  The warrior pointed to Jecht's pack.  "In a few hours, pass them out."

"This is it?" Jecht looked at the apple in his hand.  He looked almost offended.

"Like I said, this is not a pleasure cruise."  Auron bit into his apple and turned to Braska.  "My Lord, I will take point now if you will take rear guard.  I would like to range forward a bit to be sure there are no problems."

The Summoner nodded in response.  "Just be careful."

Auron moved back toward the main path.  Braska, finishing off his apple, gestured to Jecht.  "You first," he said.

Jecht was still pondering the apple with a frown on his face.  Finally, he shrugged and followed after the warrior, eating the apple as he walked.  Auron was already quite a distance away.  The blitzer noticed a flash of light and narrowed his eyes.  The warrior had unsheathed his weapon and was ranging ahead

"So, what's his story?" Jecht asked.

"What do you mean?"  Braska held his staff in his right hand and kept his eyes on Auron as they walked.

"Auron.  What's with him?"  Jecht asked between bites of fruit.  "You two known each other long?  Old friends?"

"Not really," Braska replied.  He smiled.  "Auron and I met briefly many years ago.  When he returned to Bevelle, we made a pact to Journey."

The blitzer scratched his head as he walked ahead of the Summoner.  He sounded perplexed.  "Braska, no offence, but why the hell would he do that?  Seemed to have a pretty cushy setup back in town."

The Summoner laughed.  "Yes, I suppose it might look that way."  Braska's tone turned thoughtful.  "I am not sure how to explain, Jecht.  The reasons for Auron's decision to Journey with me are very complex.  We are…friends…but we also share a bond of magic.  It is called The Call of Guardianship.  Even those at the temple, who train with magic all their lives, have difficulty understanding the Call.  Auron and I share it, and still do not completely know its capabilities and limitations."

Jecht stopped walking and tuned to face Braska.  "Whatdaya mean?  Do ya read each other's minds or somethin'?"

"No.  It is not like that," Braska responded.  He gestured with the staff that they should keep moving.  "But I can, sometimes, tell what he is feeling and if he is injured.  He can do the same with me."

Having finished the apple, Jecht tossed the core away.  It slapped against a protruding crystal and then fell downward through the thick canopy of leaves to the ground below.  Braska could tell by the set of the man's shoulders that the blitzer was trying to understand.  "So, let's say I punched the guy," Jecht said, "Would ya feel it?"

Braska wasn't honestly sure of the answer.  However, given the way the two men seemed to be at each other's throats, he decided a little dissemblance couldn't hurt.  "Probably."

Jecht grunted in response and fell silent.  

The sun arced across the sky as the group continued the hike through the forest.  Auron dropped back to join the pair and they stepped off at another bridge juncture to pass out rations.  Each packet held a cake made of grain, dried fruit, and honey along with some dried meat.  Braska quickly ate his cake and then extended his hand, holding the meat, toward Jecht.  "You may have this," he said.

"Don't you want it?"  The blitzer arched an eyebrow. 

"No.  The only meat I eat is fish, and that only rarely."  Jecht shrugged and took the offered food.  He stuck a strip of the meat in his mouth.  Braska smiled a bit.  Auron had already pulled another apple from his pack and it was being presented for consumption.  "You are going to insist I eat that, aren't you?" The Summoner said to the Guardian.

Auron nodded.    

"I am not a child, Auron."  Sighing, Braska took the fruit.  "I know when I am hungry."

Russet eyes stared pointedly into Braska's.  "Yet you do not eat when you are, my Lord.  Instead, you give away your rations."  The warrior gestured toward Jecht.  "At least Jecht has the good sense not to turn down food when it is offered."

The Summoner started to speak and Auron raised his hands before him, stilling the words.  The baritone voice was stern.  "I know you do not care to eat meat, and I understand your reasons.  Please, Lord Braska, just have care for your health."

Braska nodded.  He didn't say a word.  Instead, he put the apple to his mouth and took a bite.

"The sun will set soon.  We need to pick up our pace."  Auron turned to Jecht.  "Any problems with that?"

The blitzer was chewing on the last of the dried meat.  "Nope."  The word was muffled from the food in his mouth.

The warrior looked to Braska for some kind of sign.  Finally, he turned and stepped back onto the main path.  Drawing his sword, he strode forward and took the lead again leaving Braska and Jecht to follow.

"Real charmer, ain't he?" said Jecht as the two moved to follow.

"Auron?  A charmer?"  The Summoner shook his head and grinned.  "He has his moments.  Do not let his detachment bother you.  It is his way."

Auron's long strides set a quick pace.  The group had little spare energy to chat as the warrior pressed forward; racing the sun.  Shoulders set; he glanced back to be sure he was not outdistancing the pair behind them.  The Call told him that Braska was fine, so he continued to push ahead.

//We need to clear the forest before nightfall.//

Unfortunately, Auron's wish was not granted.  By the time the group began to descend through the tree line, the sun had fully set.  Russet eyes narrowed slightly as the warrior searched the dark path ahead for signs of movement and the shimmer of pyreflies.  He saw nothing.

Stepping off the light bridge and into the forest, Auron moved toward the clearing.  Jecht and Braska followed.  Using his sword to point to the right, the warrior said, "This way, Lord.  We are almost there."  He turned and headed down the path.

The Summoner nodded and began to follow when Jecht said, "Huh.  I'll be.  Look at that."

Turning to face the blitzer, Braska's eyes widened.  Jecht was standing in the middle of a group of butterflies.  "Jecht!  Do not move!"  

Braska's voice carried to Auron and the warrior turned in time see Jecht reach toward one of the fluttering pairs of wings.  He ran, sword drawn, toward the pair.  "STOP!  DO NOT TOUCH IT!"

//Oh, Yevon, no!  Where did those come from?!//

It was too late.

Jecht, entranced by the shining wings of the butterflies seemed to hear none of the warnings.  Even if he had, it would have made no sense to the man from Zanarkand.  The yellow, blue, and red winged creatures - alluring in their beauty - seemed completely unafraid of the blitzer as he extended his hand to touch the one closest to him.

A hum of warning emitted from the small red winged insect.  Glowing, it cast a strange lurid light over the entire clearing as it called forward protective magic.  Pyreflies began to coalesce, solidifying into two fiends – Chimeras.

"Are you INSANE, man!" Auron shouted the words at Jecht as he slid his left arm free of his robes.  

Braska, extending his staff before him turned it parallel to the ground and closed his eyes.  He began to chant.  Suddenly, blue-white light expanded from beneath his feet.  Expanding upward to enclose the Summoner, tendrils of blue and green twisted in the air.  A liquid chime rang out in the clearing and a small ball of light began to spin around Braska.  The spell then moved to Auron as the warrior moved into guard position slightly ahead and to the right of Braska.  Jecht felt the effects of the magic encase him before he realized what was happening.  An incoherent shout escaped him as the blue and green of the spell flashed around his body, protecting him from any water based spell.  

The blitzer stood, dumbfounded as the forms of the Chimeras solidified.  "What hell are those!?" he shouted.

"Jecht!  Get behind me!"  Braska flung an arm outward in a gesture of protection.  "The spell will only protect you from the hawk's head.  The others use different elements!"

Frozen in a strange mix of fear and fascination, Jecht continued to stand there.  He watched as Auron rushed forward, his massive sword lifted level with his head, to strike at the closest of the fiends.  Twisting fluidly, the warrior sliced the beast cleanly – a diagonal gash exposing the interior of the creature's torso.  All three heads roared displeasure as Auron returned to Braska's side, ready to protect him.  

"Jecht!  The ball!"  Auron's voice finally seemed to reach the startled blitzer.  "Use it!  Hit the other one with it.  A strike to a head will blind it!"

Dropping the pack, Jecht flicked the ball from under his arm and into his hand.  Instinct took over.  Crouching slightly, the blitzer's eyes narrowed and he picked his target.  His arm drew back and the ball flew forward with amazing speed to impact the bobbing heads of the second Chimera.  A black cloud encased the top of the creature, blinding it, as the ball flew back toward Jecht.  He jumped into the air to make the catch and tucked the thing under his arm.  He looked down at the blitzball, astounded.

~~How did I do **that**?~~

Braska was chanting again.  This time he turned to face Auron directly as the spell began to gather strength.  Pushing his arms forward, staff parallel to the ground, light flew upward and out toward warrior.  A ticking noise accompanied two red dials as they spun around Auron's body.  The young man's actions picked up noticeable speed.  Unfortunately, the haste cast wasn't enough to save him.

The wounded Chimera was angry.  Rushing forward, it slammed into Auron, knocking him to the ground and then stomped on the Guardian.  The sword flew from the warrior's grasp and made resonant clack as it struck a crystalline tree stump.  He tried to roll out of the way but wasn't quite fast enough.  A sickening crunch accompanied a scream and the monster's massive hoof crushed Auron's left arm – snapping the humerus and dislocating the shoulder.  The look of agony that played across the young man's face was staggering.

"NO!"  Braska's face lit up in panic.  He rushed to Auron's side as the Chimera retreated - standing before him in an effort to protect his Guardian.  The monster's twin used the only attack left to it – the slithering tail rose upward to reveal the head of a snake.  Opening the fanged mouth, a bolt of lightening issued forth and struck downward at the prone form in red.  There was nothing Braska could do to stop it.  The flash of light hit Auron firmly in the center of his chest, singing the young man and silencing his screams.  He lost consciousness.

The Summoner drew himself up in his robes, righteous in his rage.  Jecht's mouth fell open in amazement at what happened next.  Flinging his arms wide, Braska cried upward into the sky, "**Help me**!"  Twirling the staff in his grasp, the Summoner called upon his Aeon.  Golden light soared upward into the air and converged to create the most beautiful and terrifying thing Jecht had ever seen.  Plummeting downward through a glyph that spun vividly in the black of the night sky, Bahamut came to the aid of his master.  

"**What the F…**!" Jecht exclaimed.  The winged creature dropped to the ground with a resounding thud and roared its readiness to fight, drowning the blitzer's words.  Crossing its arms over a scaled dark blue chest, it awaited orders.

"**Send those things to oblivion**!" Braska commanded.  Then, the Summoner dropped to his knees at Auron's side.

The Aeon wasted no time.  Gliding forward smoothly with its red, gold, and purple wings extended, the enormous hulk drew back a clawed right arm and made a lazy swatting motion at the already wounded Chimera.  The force of the impact crushed the fiend in one blow.  It dissipated in a cry of pyreflies, leaving its mate to face the wrath of Bahamut alone.

Shaking all three heads, the remaining Chimera regained its sight.  The Lion head rose upward and roared as it gathered power.  A ball of fire formed in the fiend's clawed left hand and it hurled the magical attack at the Aeon.  Jecht was almost sure he saw Bahamut grin as the Megiddo flame flew toward it.  The elemental cast did little damage and the response was swift.  Crackling with power, three balls of energy formed and the Aeon smiled as it shot the Impulse spell toward the remaining creature.  The explosion that followed the impact threw Jecht to his knees.  When he stood up, the Chimera was gone.

Bahamut stood; arms crossed, and looked down at his Summoner.  Braska, finally realizing that the fight was over, called out to Jecht.  "Are you all right?  Are you injured?"

Jecht shook his head and moved cautiously toward Braska.  "I'm ok.  But…uh…should I get near that thing?"

The Summoner frowned and ingored the question.  "Jecht, I need your help."  Gesturing toward Auron he said, "I must determine his injuries before we may move him.  It will take all of my concentration.  I must release the Aeon and will be unable to defend myself while I do this."  There was no accusation in his voice, but Jecht still flinched at the question that followed.  "Will you be able to defend us?"

"I don't know, but I can try," Jecht replied.  Suddenly, the blitzer felt very helpless.  Now that the fight was over, he realized the enormity of what had occurred.  He wasn't sure how, but he realized that the whole thing was his fault.  Somehow, touching that butterfly – a stupid little butterfly – had caused this mess.  Then, he'd stood there like an idiot while Auron almost got himself killed.  For all he knew, the warrior might be dying.  

~~What the hell am I doing here?  What kind of place **is** this?~~

Braska seemed to understand and nodded.  He looked up at the Aeon that towered above him.  "I can not thank you enough."  The two looked at each other and Bahamut, with a strong thrust of his legs, shot upward into the sky and disappeared.


	9. Macalania: Chapter Three, The Travel Sto...

** Braska's Journey  
Macalania – Chapter Three – The Travel Stop**

Auron swam in a void of infinite pain.  Trapped by his own body in his subconscious, he dreamed.  Red disembodied eyes, huge in their nightmare form, stared at him.  A voice echoed in his head - laughing.  It was the laugh of the man who had tortured him in the dungeons of St. Bevelle.

Struggling to wake up, he kept telling himself it was a dream.  Over and over, he repeated, "I must wake up."  But he didn't wake up.  Instead, colored lights flashed around him as the imaginary man flung spell after spell on Auron's dream-self.

He couldn't breathe.  The part of him that could still reason was aware he was dying.  Auron knew that if he couldn't regain consciousness, couldn't stop the torture of his imaginary body, his real life would end.  And so, the young warrior clung tenaciously to the only thing he had left – pain.

-------------

Braska knelt next to Auron as Jecht looked on – blitzball in hand and ready to fly if a leaf so much as twitched.  Healing was Braska's chosen art and his skills were almost without peer.  The Summoner closed his eyes and placed his hands on either side of Auron's head; not quite touching the Guardian's face.  Then, exhaling, he began to chant.

Blue light radiated from Braska's body; a look of concentration and concern gracing his face.  Moving his hands slowly, he brushed his palms over Auron's prone form.  The Summoner's head tilted, brow furrowing, as he reached the warrior's chest and left arm.  Quickly, the delicate fingers slid downward over Auron's legs.  The frown seemed to lessen.  Then, Braska's hands quickly returned to Auron's head.  He stopped chanting and the light winked out.

"Jecht, I do not have much time if I am to save him."  Braska's voice was low and worried.  "It is impossible for me to fix everything right now.  I can only hope to stabilize him.  Once we reach the travel stop, and safety, I can focus more fully on healing him."  The Summoner looked around quickly and then returned his focus to the blitzer.  "I need you help me hold him still.."

Nodding sharply, Jecht said, "Ok.  What do I do?" 

Calmly, Braska told Jecht what he needed.  Kneeling next to Auron's head, the blitzer put a strong hand on each shoulder and waited as Braska moved to straddle the warrior's legs.  Then, placing his hands on the young man's chest, the Summoner cast Cureaga.

In spite of the restraint, Auron's body still bucked as the heal spell flooded him.  His eyes flew open and he gasped for breath.  The pain of the dream became real again and he realized he was pinned to the ground.  All he could see was Jecht.  "Braska!" he shouted.

"Auron, stop!  I am here."  The sound of his Lord's voice seemed to calm the warrior.  Leaning toward Auron he said, "Your injuries are severe.  The left shoulder is dislocated and the arm broken.  You're ribs were cracked and the lightening strike almost took you."  The warrior swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut in pain.  "I am sorry, but we have to get to the Inn before I can fix the rest.  If you cannot make it on your own, we will have to carry you.  I can give you something to ease the pain, or I can put you to sleep.  It is your choice."    

Jecht didn't know what to think.  The situation was overwhelming.  He was so numb with shock from the fight that he had little surprise left to feel when Braska seemed to simply **pray** and heal Auron.  The blitzer was never one to believe in what he couldn't touch, see, feel, taste, or smell.  If it wasn't in front of him, it wasn't true.  He knew plenty of people in Zanarkand who followed some kind of religious philosophy.  He always thought they were a bunch of nuts – people looking for some grand explanation or meaning to life.  Life was life.  You lived it and you died.  That was that.  Now, here he was, stranded in a world of magic and religion where people prayed and received active help from some kind of God or something.   So, Jecht knelt there, pushed Auron's shoulders to the ground as he was told, and tried not to wonder if there was a hell – cause he was pretty sure he'd end up in it, if he wasn't there already.

"I will try to walk."  Auron's reply was forced through clenched teeth.  

Braska nodded at Jecht and the blitzer let go.  Reaching into his robes, the Summoner brought out two long flat leaves and put them to the warrior's mouth.  "Chew on these, but do not swallow them. It would be better to drink a tea made of them, but we do not have that option."

Nodding, Auron opened his mouth and Braska slipped the leaves inside.  Then, the Summoner moved from his position across the warrior's legs.  He gestured at the blitzer.  "Help me get him up, Jecht."

The two managed to get Auron on his feet.  Braska slipped himself under the young man's right arm to help support him as Jecht gathered up the packs and his blitzball.  The group began to move down the path and the blitzer retrieved Auron's sword.  Looking at it for a moment, Jecht twisted the haft in his grasp and then slung it up and onto his shoulder, the way he had seen Auron do earlier in the day.  The trio walked off into the chill air toward Lake Macalania.

---------------------

Two spans later, Auron was on the mend and Jecht was bored out of his mind.  Before leaving Bevelle, Braska had given the blitzer some travel gil in addition to the items they picked up in the marketplace.  In retrospect, it was probably not the best idea.

Upon arrival at the Al Bhed travel stop, there had been a flurry of activity.  Braska needed help getting Auron undressed and into bed.  The warrior had protested enough that Braska had finally gotten stern and put the man to sleep.  The pair had then made quick work of stripping him so the Summoner could set the arm.  After some sickening pulls and twists, Jecht had helped Braska truss up the injury with some bandages and splints before the priest cast a spell to knit the bones.  Announcing that he was no longer needed, Braska told Jecht to get some rest and he'd see him in the morning.

The sunrise had seen Auron surly and irritated.  Jecht could hear Braska and the Guardian argue all the way in the hall when he'd exited his room – with himself as a principal topic.  Frowning, the blitzer went into the shop area to see if he could find something to do.  He had little luck.  

Hitting on the pretty Al Bhed woman hadn't gone much of anywhere and only killed about an hour.  When Braska finally exited the room he shared with Auron, the man looked exhausted.  Jecht had offered to "hang out" with Auron and let the Summoner sleep, but Braska would hear none of it.  The two rounded up some food, had a meal together, and then the Summoner had disappeared again to be with the warrior.  

That was when Jecht went to his room and started thinking.  And when Jecht started really **thinking** about the situation he now found himself in, it got him pretty homesick.  

It all started innocently enough.  He'd been pondering what he could do to waste some time.  Since he'd seen a fiend, he figured that avoiding them was a good idea.  Going outside was not an option.  He picked up an "Al Bhed Dictionary" in the lobby, but had never been the bookish sort and it got old pretty fast.  He paced a bit, and played with the blitzball, but it wasn't long before that wore thin.  Then, he started wishing he had a guitar.  

Next thing he knew, he was thinking about how nice it would be to have his big vid screen and some movies to watch.  That brought memories of cuddling on the sofa with his wife as they watched horror flicks – she always climbed in his lap when she got scared and he enjoyed that.  In fact, he was pretty sure Tidus was the result of an evening of horror flicks.  That led to thoughts of his son and more than a bit of self-recrimination for being a lousy father.  Soon, he was wishing he could be with his family and feeling down.  

That's when he remembered the sake he picked up in Bevelle.

Feeling out of his element, depressed, and alone Jecht did the logical thing - he got drunk.  This was not a new state for the man from Zanarkand.  The last few years hadn't been that great.  He was getting pretty old for a blitzer and, though he was still the greatest to ever play the game, he knew the ride wasn't going to last forever.   

Jecht hadn't had parents.  He'd run away from foster homes and grown up on the streets.  It was a tough life.  Jecht saw a pretty nasty side of Zanarkand – a side he tried hard to forget.  Luck saved him.  One night, a stranger found him near the docks and gave him a blitzball.  

Blitzball let Jecht take control of his life.  Climbing his way out of the alleys and into the water, he made something of himself.  With single-minded determination, and raw talent, Jecht shot to the top of his sport.  A shining star, he had his pick of women and more money than he could count.  He married a beauty and when Tidus had been born; it filled him with pride.  The boy was everything to him – he loved the child so much it almost scared him.  He had it all.  

Then, the team started to lose games.  Younger players started getting more press.  Things started to slide and he couldn't deal with it.  He began to drink.

It didn't take long for things to get unpleasant at home.  Jecht started coming home late after games.  The press, following his every move, made sure to plaster pictures of him and every woman he was found with all over the news.  It led to arguments and more drinking.  The shouting turned ugly and fists started to fly.  Tidus got caught in the crossfire.

Jecht had no model for good parenting.  Doing the best he could, he figured it was enough to provide for the kid – to teach him how to blitz, protect him from the hell out there, and make sure the boy was tough enough to take what people were going to dish out.  At first, when Tidus was small, things were fine.  Then, as his son got older and Jecht spent more and more time on the road, Tidus seemed to cling to the proverbial skirts of his mother.  The child started crying for attention.  Jecht didn't get it; didn't understand.  Without a frame of reference, and being the blunt person he was, he started telling the kid that crying got you nowhere.  Crying only made things worse.

After Jecht started drinking, and things at home started going south, Tidus began acting out.  It was one thing for the boy to cry for his mother's attention.  It was another when he actually told his father, "I hate you."

The first time the boy had said those words; Jecht left the house and hadn't come home for a week.  He went on a bender so vast that he couldn't even remember half of it.  When he finally drug himself home to face his wife and son, he felt like he deserved to be hated.  After that, the arguments and the hurtful words just didn't touch him anymore.  He stopped going to practice.  He stopped caring.

Then, about a week ago, Tidus said something to Jecht that made him think.  The two had been on the deck of the houseboat and the boy said, "They say you're no good 'cause you drink all the time."  It had pissed him off.  It was one thing for the press to put him down and say he was washed up.  It was another for his own seven-year-old son to say it in disgust.  Jecht spat out, "I can quit drinkin' whenever I want!"  The reply from the little boy had been swift.  "Then do it now."

"Do it now."

The words echoed in his head while he drank in the small Al Bhed room.  Those words had made him want to prove something - prove something to his son.  And, when Jecht was of a mind to prove a point, **nothing** got in his way.  

So, he'd called up his coach and told him he was through drinking.  He told the man he was heading out to the practice field in the morning.  Feeling sick and aching all over, Jecht had hauled his ass out of bed at an ungodly hour, dressed in his uniform, and got ready to leave.  His wife had been asleep and he hadn't bothered to wake her up to say goodbye.  He opened the door to Tidus' room to look in on the brat and whispered to nobody, "You'll see.  I can do anything.  I just have to want it."

Then he left.  Taking a slip from the dock, he was almost to the training area when all hell had broken loose.

Jecht didn't really remember much.  A huge wave came out of nowhere.  The tiny boat he'd been on was no match for the force of nature.  When the water slammed into the thing, it shattered into tiny pieces and sent Jecht flying into the water.  The next thing he knew, he was on a beach.  Some guy in a uniform with a sword found him. The blitzer hadn't gotten two sentences out of his mouth when people started trying to restrain him.  Jecht managed to fight off six guys before they cold cocked him and tossed him in that cell.  And now, here he was, following a man he hardly knew and a warrior he knew even less in a world where the normal laws of nature and physics just didn't seem to apply.  

Who could blame a man for drinking in a situation like that?  Braska sure didn't.

The Summoner knocked on Jecht's door around mid-day and found the man drunk off his ass.  Without complaint or accusation, Braska simply had a seat in the chair next to the bed and let Jecht ramble on about whatever came into his head.  While the blitzer wasn't looking, the priest checked the sake cask to see how much alcohol Jecht had consumed and blinked in surprise.  It was over half empty.  Discreetly, he moved the thing under the chair in an effort to keep Jecht from getting sick or passing out.  Finally, the man from Zanarkand wound himself down.  Sighing, Braska took the sake cask with him when he left Jecht to sleep it off.

The next day saw a repeat of Jecht's behavior and the Summoner began to be concerned.  Jecht had spent some of the money given to him buying another recording sphere and a bottle of whiskey – a brown alcoholic substance made by the Al Bhed that Braska had sampled in his youth.  The blitzer made short work of the bottle and then made a fuss about wanting to go outdoors to ice skate.  Braska had finally convinced the man it was a bad idea.  The result had been a slurred comment of, "Ya needa lightenup.  Yur as stiff as that worrier monk…"

While the change of title had been amusing to Braska, it had only upset Auron.  The warrior had been chomping at the bit and insisted on getting up.  As luck would have it, Auron picked just the wrong moment to step outside the room.  Jecht had been draped over Braska as the priest attempted to maneuver him into bed when the monk got up.  The man from Zanarkand tossed out the comment and Auron's eyes narrowed.  "Good for nothing drunk," he'd said, before stalking off.

Now, Braska had two surly men on his hands and was almost at his wits end.  Having had little sleep the night before they left Bevelle, the Summoner was exhausted from a day of travel and two days of healing the injured Guardian.  Knowing he couldn't keep pushing himeslf much longer, Braska wondered how he was going to manage if Jecht and Auron kept it up.

Rin arrived the next morning and saved the day.  Braska had known the Al Bhed man for years.  The blond had taken over the family business and ran the travel agencies scattered all over Spira.  Dealing weapons, potions, provisions, food, and anything else he could trade; Rin was a tough negotiator.  He was also honest and liked Braska.

The two put their heads together and came up with a plan.  Jecht got put to work unloading the supplies Rin had in his transport.  Braska felt a little bad about waking him – it was obvious he was hung over – but it would keep Jecht busy and out of a bottle for the day.  It freed the Summoner to focus his attention on Auron for the morning and ensure that the warrior was ready to resume the trek.  Telling him that they could leave for the temple in the next day, Braska ordered Auron to do nothing strenuous and stay indoors.  Then, he promptly burrowed into bed and slept.

Dawn arrived all too soon.  Braska still felt a bit tired when he got up, but was ready to face the day.  After breakfast, the trio gathered up their things and made ready to depart.  Jecht insisted on using one of his spheres to record the place.  "Nobody at home is gonna believe me, Braska.  Will ya take some for me?"

The Summoner nodded and took the sphere.  Jecht stood under the travel agency sign and Braska turned it on.  Auron, standing off to the side with his still recovering left arm exposed to the chill air, was disgusted with the whole situation and wanted nothing to do with it.

"Auron, could you stand closer to him?"  Braska's voice floated on the light breeze.  There was an implied command in the question.  Sighing, Auron nodded and then moved to stand with Jecht under the sign.  His lone protest was to keep his back turned.

"Good, that should do it."  The Summoner sounded pleased.  Somehow, he'd get the pair to stop bickering and be friends.  He was determined.   

Jecht couldn't leave well enough alone.  He was still grumpy from working yesterday and unhappy about almost everything.  Turning to face Auron he said, "What's the matter?  Afraid I might bite?" He tossed the words at Auron with a bit of a condescending tone.  It was like throwing a bone at a dog. 

"Jecht..."  The tone of Auron's voice was Braska's first warning.  

The blitzer ignored it.  "Braska!  You should take one, too."  Jecht turned and moved toward the Summoner, rubbing at his neck.  "It'd make a great gift for little Yuna."

Mentioning Yuna made the Summoner miss her terribly.  Braska had been so preoccupied with Auron's injuries and Jecht's antics that he had not had much time to think about his little girl.  "I suppose," he said.

That was all it took.  Auron bristled.  He was tired of Jecht's insensitivity and wasn't going to watch Braska spend another day suffering along in silence.  "Lord Braska…" he said curtly, "we shouldn't be wasting our time like this!"

Jecht walked off to pick up the packs.  He'd be carrying both today since Auron was under orders to keep from straining the healing shoulder. "What's the hurry, man?"  The blitzer's tone was slightly irritated.  

Auron snapped.  "Let me tell you what the hurry is!"  The warrior strode quickly toward Jecht, intending to get in his face.  

It was all Braska could do to get there in time.  He fumbled with the sphere in an effort to turn the thing off and tried to command the warrior's attention.  "Auron!"  Braska put himself between the two, facing his young Guardian.  "Jecht is right.  There is no rush.  What is the harm in taking a few pictures as we travel?"

The two looked at each other.  The sadness in Braska's eyes was almost more than Auron could take.  All the warrior wanted was to protect his friend from pain, and he had only made the situation worse.

//I am just as insensitive as that lout.  At least Jecht has the excuse of not knowing Braska's going to die.//

Closing his eyes, Auron said quietly, "I am sorry, Lord."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Auron."  Braska reached out a hand and put it to the warrior's good shoulder.  He smiled lightly.  "You are right, we should get under way."

Turning, the Summoner strode forward, staff in hand, and began to walk toward the temple.


	10. Macalania: Chapter Four, Revelations

** Braska's Journey  
Macalania – Chapter Four – Revelations**

Auron was uneasy.  Braska was leading the party and Jecht had taken rear guard.  The warrior didn't like it one bit.  His shoulder still ached, his chest was badly bruised, and he felt like a complete and utter failure.  

//I almost got my Summoner killed.  Now he's traveling too soon because of my bad temper.  That and Jecht's atrocious behavior…//

Frowning, the warrior scanned the white horizon closely for movement.  It was difficult.  Lack of cloud cover made for high glare off the snow and visibility was not good as a result.  Auron knew that, in his condition, he was almost useless in a fight.  He might be able to fling a few knives or even strike something with his tanto, but even that was questionable.  While Braska could always call his Aeon to defend them, he could only do it a few times before it drained him and he required sleep or some kind of potion to boost his stamina.  Without Auron's huge blade, the party no longer had the ability to pierce the thick hide of some of the tougher creatures that hunted the snowdrifts.  Jecht was accurate with the blitzball, but wasn't going to be taking out anything heftier than a wasp or an evil eye.  It made him nervous.

Jecht stuck close.  Braska had insisted that the group could handle any problems that might arise and had ordered Auron into the center of the party.  The blitzer could tell by the set of Auron's shoulders that the warrior was unhappy with the directive.  He couldn't really blame the guy.  Jecht knew he'd already shown he wasn't worth a damn in a fight.  He'd also made an ass of himself back at the inn.  As usual, he was regretting his drunken actions and didn't know how to make up for them.  With his wife, it was easy.  He got her flowers, romanced her, took her to dinner, and declared he'd never do it again.  With Braska, he didn't know what to do.  So, he didn't do anything and just tried to keep his eyes – and mind – on the horizon.  

The group hiked along the frozen surface of Lake Macalania.  A strong wind blew over the ice, drifting loose snow and cutting through the clothing the men wore.  Jecht, barefoot and not wearing much, shivered but said nothing.  He'd insisted he didn't need a cloak or shoes back at the shop and he wasn't about to admit he was wrong.

"Auron," Braska called over his shoulder, "Is that the trail?"  He pointed to a gap in the snowdrifts.  

"Yes, Lord," Auron replied.  "I should take point since I know the way."

Braska stopped and faced the warrior.  He said sternly, "Auron, you are still recovering.  That is **not** acceptable.  I am sure I can manage to lead us down an obvious path."

Jecht's eyebrows rose.  He was standing just behind Auron and doing his best to pretend he wasn't listening.

Auron tried to ignore the comment of his Summoner.  "Lord Braska, we should not be stopping like this."  The warrior stepped to the side and made to strike out down the path ahead of his charge.  

The Summoner extended his arm, staff in hand, and blocked Auron's passage.  "Auron, you are being stubborn and have continually tried to ignore my suggestions regarding your recovery.  You will do me no good if you re-injure yourself or get yourself killed."  Braska was visibly frustrated.  It was clear he'd had enough of Auron's behavior and wasn't going to tolerate it any longer.

The two stared at one another.  Jecht hadn't been around them long, but had seen several moments like this.  It always felt a bit awkward.  Braska had told him that they couldn't read each other's minds – but it sure looked like that way.  Both men were clearly not giving an inch and it was starting to get uncomfortable.  Jecht realized Auron was probably right – they shouldn't be standing in the open like this – and tried to ignore the scene by keeping an eye out.  He didn't know what he was looking for, but by god, it wasn't going to sneak up on him like last time.

Finally, Jecht decided to do something.  "Uh, guys.  I know I'm not part of the conversation here, but I got somethin' ta say."

Auron and Braska turned to look at Jecht.  He rubbed at his neck a bit and rolled his head to the side.  "These packs are damn heavy and I got no idea what I'm lookin' for.  So, if ya'd drop the stand off I'd appreciate it."

Both men looked a bit sheepish at having Jecht remind them of the seriousness of the situation.  Braska smiled and started to laugh.  "Yes, Jecht.  I see your point," he responded.  Reaching out with his free arm he said pointedly, "I will take Auron's pack for a while and **continue to lead**."  The last part was directed at Auron and was accompanied by a stern look that said Braska would brook no further argument.

The warrior just stood there and grunted while Jecht handed over the pack.  Braska turned and started down the pathway without another word.  The blitzer waited for the sulking Auron to follow and then loped along behind.

Unfortunately, the conversation had already done its damage.  Not far into the crevice, fiends set upon the group.  Auron heard the growl of the snow wolf and turned toward the sound.  They never assaulted alone.  "Lord!" Auron called out to Braska.

Turning, the Summoner watched as two evil eyes flew over the ridge to join the advancing wolf.  Braska frowned in concern.  Moving swiftly, he positioned himself in front of Auron and said, "Jecht, try for one of the flyers.  We need to prevent them from casting magic!"

Jecht nodded and dropped the pack.  Auron's sword was strapped to his back.  It was bulky, cumbersome, and slowed him a bit.

~~How the hell does Auron wear this thing all the time?~~

Hauling back, Jecht let the ball fly and solidly struck the eye on the left.  While it didn't take out the fiend, it did wound and blind the creature.  It shrieked.  

Braska nodded and extended his staff horizontally before him; prepared to cast a spell.  Auron stopped him  "Target the wolf, Braska.  I can take the other one."  

No sooner had he spoken the words but two knives flew past Braska's head toward their target.  One sliced into a wing and the other embedded in the flying orb's huge eye to blind it.  The Summoner quickly turned his attention to the snow wolf.  Chanting, Braska swept the head of his staff toward the fiend and fire encased the creature.  It yelped as the flames singed its fur.  

All three monsters had taken significant damage but were still alive to fight.  The wolf charged toward Auron - its sense of smell telling it the man was injured.  Braska saw the direction of the attack and stepped between the fiend and its target.  Rising on its powerful hindquarters, the wolf lunged at Braska and raked its claws into his body.  A shout of pain escaped the Summoner and he dropped to his knees as the fiend retreated.

Rage flooded Auron.  He was angry with Braska for getting himself hurt.  He was frustrated that he was practically helpless, and he was furious with the creatures in front of him.  Unsheathing his tanto, he bolted forward and attempted to finish off the wolf.  It was too fast for him and jumped backward.  Grunting from his effort, Auron returned to Braska and tried to help him.

Jecht realized when Auron couldn't get the wolf that it was going to be down to him unless Braska called the Aeon.  He set his jaw and decided to use a little style to take care of things.  Slipping the heavy sword from its place on his back, he dropped the ball in front of his right foot and started the Jecht Shot.

~~If it works in the water, it'll work here, right?~~

Contacting the ball solidly, it soared out and struck the eye on the left with a loud crack.  It dissipated in a cry of pyreflies and Jecht's face lit up in a self-satisfied smile.

~~Yeah!  I can do this!~~

The ball flew back toward the sender and with astounding accuracy; Jecht slammed the thing with an upraised fist.  Again, the ball flew forward toward a target.  This time, it was the wolf.  The ball smacked it senseless and it yipped before it began to come undone.  

"Sweet!" Jecht exclaimed.  "Now for the score…"

Sailing back once more, the ball launched upward into the air.  Jumping after it, Jecht rotated as he thrust himself into the sky.  Auron and Braska both watched in shock as the man seemed to hover in the heavens.  The ball speed toward him and Jecht's rotation slowed.  A foot shot out and connected with the round object with a resounding boom.  The remaining evil eye was done for.  The ball slammed into the fiend as the blitzer dropped back to the ground - pyreflies escaping its now useless form and Auron's knives clinking to the ground.  

Landing in a crouch, Jecht's hand shot out to his right and the ball slapped into the extended appendage.  "Take that," he said with finality.

Auron and Braska blinked at Jecht in amazement.  Recovering himself, Braska said, "Jecht, thank you."

The blitzer shrugged casually and brushed it off.  "No problem."  He picked up the packs and put them on his shoulder.  "How 'bout we get the hell outa here?"

Narrowing his eyes, Auron looked at Jecht thoughtfully.  Then, he turned his attention to his Lord.  "Braska, can you continue?  Do you need help?"

The Summoner shook his head and adjusted the helm that had gone askew.  Clasping his staff between his hands, he chanted and cast Cure upon himself – bathing his body in blue light.  When he was finished he looked up at the now standing Auron who extended his hand downward.  Smiling he took the offered help and got to his feet.  "Well.  It seems we managed quite nicely," he said, as he dusted the snow off his robes.

"Hn." Auron responded.  He walked over and picked up the knives.  Checking them for damage, he spun them in his fingers and then slipped them into their holders.  "I would not call you being injured 'managing it nicely.'  However, we did manage."  He nodded respectfully in Jecht's direction and said, "I will stay with Lord Braska while you cover the rear."

Jecht blinked a bit as the pair turned and started to walk away.  He'd expected to get a little bit of praise, or at least a 'thanks,' out of Auron and got what he considered to be nothing.  If he'd known Auron better, he might have realized how significant the comment he received was.  Auron had just trusted Jecht to cover his back and that of his Summoner.  There was no greater honor the warrior could have given him.

The implication of the statement wasn't lost on Braska, however.  It pleased him and it was all he could do not to say something.  But, Braska didn't need to say anything and he knew it.  The Call would take care of that for him and save the warrior embarrassment.  

**Good.  It is a step forward.  Perhaps they will work it out after all.**

Setting out again, the group walked down the pathway.  The fissure that ran the length of the snowpack was crossable in two locations by walkways of ice.  Auron suggested they take the one at the far end, as the path on the other side was narrow and a bit more treacherous.   Smarting at a perceived slight, Jecht hung back and followed along without comment.

After a while, Jecht's simmer of irritation became downright fuming.  Knowing it would get him nowhere; he tried to take his mind off the man in red that walked ahead of him.  He started to whistle.

The noise carried quite well in the narrow cleft.  It started off with a few random notes and then quickly resolved itself into a tune.  It was Jecht's favorite.  An old woman who'd been a foster guardian for a time taught it to him.  She used to sing it when she made him lunch – grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.  The song always made him feel safe and warm, just like the woman had before they'd moved him somewhere else.  Once, after he'd run away, he went back and tried to find her.  The house had been empty.

But, Jecht still had his happy memories of warm comfort food and a sweet old woman.  Right now, he needed some warm feelings because he was cold – damn cold!  His feet were numb and the swirling wind was blowing up the wide legs of his long shorts.  It wasn't very comfortable.  To top it off, he was irritated with Auron and really wanted a bit of satisfaction in that regard.  More than a bit off pitch, he started to actually sing the words.  Completely lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Braska and Auron had stopped walking and turned to stare at him.  He practically ran into Auron.

"What?!"  Jecht started when he saw the pair at a halt.  He was sure something must have been getting ready to attack.  He dropped the packs, flicked ball into his hand and spun – looking for a target.  There wasn't one.

Feeling a little foolish, Jecht turned back around and said, "What gives?"

Auron had a strange look on his face.  His voice was a bit abrupt.  "Where did you learn that song?"

Jecht didn't get it.  "Whaddaya mean?"

"That song you were singing.  Where did you learn it?"  The volume of Auron's voice rose a bit with the demand for information.  

"Auron," Braska turned his head and looked pointedly at his Guardian.  Turning his attention back to the blitzer, he said in a placid voice, "Jecht, we are simply curious to know where you learned that tune.  I'm sure Auron meant no offence in the way he asked."

Blinking, Jecht replied, "Some old lady taught it to me when I was a kid.  Always liked it.  There a problem?"

"No.  Not at all, Jecht," Braska said.  "Did it have name in Zanarkand?"  The Summoner was fascinated and highly curious.

"I dunno."  The blitzer scratched his head and shrugged.  "Is this a good time ta be askin' me this?"

Auron was staring at Jecht like he'd grown an extra limb.  "Are you saying that the song has no significance to you?"

"Look, man, I don't know what your issue is, but I'm getting' pretty sick of it," Jecht growled at Auron.  He leaned down and picked the packs up off the snow.  "I just said that I like the damn song.  What's your problem?"    

Braska looked back and forth between Jecht and Auron.  The situation was deteriorating rapidly, but Braska was intent.  This was the first true link he'd found between the world of Spira and that of Jecht's Zanarkand.

**This is it.  I've found the key.  Now, what does it unlock?**

Stepping toward Jecht, Braska reached out and took one of the packs from him.  "I apologize, Jecht.  It is just…that song…it is sacred here.  When you enter the temple, you will hear it.  Every temple in Spira is filled with the sound of that song – The Hymn of the Fayth."

Jecht was stunned.  "What?"

Smiling, Braska shouldered the pack and moved to stand beside Jecht.  He put a hand to his back and started to guide him forward.  "You will see," he said.

Auron wasn't sure what to think.  Since he'd met Jecht a few days ago, he had been certain of only one thing – the man was not what he appeared to be.  He was odd.  Something wasn't quite right about him.  He didn't necessarily believe, like Braska, that he was from Zanarkand; but it was obvious the man wasn't from any part of Spira Auron was familiar with.  His manner of dress, his lack of knowledge about the Church, his surprise at the use of magic, and his shock when faced with fiends could not be explained away.  Had it been toxin stress, Jecht wouldn't have known his own name.  He certainly couldn't have come up with such elaborate stories.  Now, suddenly, the man was singing the Hymn.  Auron was starting to wonder if Jecht was simply a master at lying.  Playacting didn't make sense either.  Why would Jecht want to do something like that?  Yet, Auron could make no sense of the situation.  He was totally at a loss and he simply refused to believe that Jecht could really be from Zanarkand.  If he believed that, he had to believe that someone - or something - had sent Jecht to Bevelle.  He had to believe that his God had sent an unruly, uncouth, heathen, drunk of a blitzball player to be a divine representative.  Auron just couldn't fit that kind of possibility into his worldview.

"Auron, are you coming?"

The warrior shook his head and realized that Braska and Jecht were about to cross the ice bridge to the other side of the fissure.  The Summoner was looking at him and waiting for a response.

//I just don't understand.//

Putting the disturbing thoughts from his mind, Auron moved to join the pair and they walked, single file, across the bridge.  The temple was in sight.  Each member of the party was silent as they approached the entrance – lost in their own thoughts.  

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


	11. Macalania: Chapter Five, The Trials

** Braska's Journey  
Macalania – Chapter Five – The Trials**

"Lord Braska, I cannot allow this."

The Summoner blinked at Auron - stopped mid-sentence.  Jecht, standing behind Braska, was wondering when Auron was going to stop arguing with every little thing the priest did.  Standing before the entry to the Trials, the Summoner had raised his staff before him and was about to give the formulaic query to his companions when the warrior stepped in front of him.  Grabbing the wood just below Braska's hand, he had sternly and resolutely made his statement.  The silence that descended was awkward and acute.  

Finally, Braska lowered the staff and responded, "Auron, explain yourself."  The tone of the Summoner's voice was cold.

"Jecht is **not** your Guardian.  He has never read the scrolls, taken the Oath, undergone purification, or even had his name added to the Rolls."  The warrior stared into Braska's eyes intently.  "The Law of the Church states that only Summoners and their Guardians may enter the Trials.  Until he becomes a Guardian, I cannot allow the man to enter here."

Offended, yet again, Jecht was fed up with Auron's attitude.  He glared at the warrior and spat, "If you've got a problem with me, Auron, why don't you take it up with **me** and leave Braska out of it?  Or are ya afraid I'd kick your ass?"

Auron ignored the comment; his eyes darted to Jecht rapidly and then back to Braska.  "I apologize.  I understand that I am directly refuting your will.  But, in this matter, my duty is clear.  I may serve you as my Summoner - you may be my friend - but that is exactly why I cannot be a party to this.   I will not stand by and let you do something I know to be wrong – something that might cause you to be censured, excommunicated, or banned from approaching the Fayth at other temples." Auron closed his eyes and sighed.  "Braska.  Please.  Do not make me choose between my Summoner and my Church."

After a moment, Braska's head bowed.  Jecht watched as he took a deep breath and clasped a hand to Auron's good shoulder.  "You are always watching over me, Auron.  I cannot be upset with you for doing your duty.  I have my reasons.  Jecht **must** enter the Trials with us.  If you insist on this I will defer."

The events that followed were rapid and left Jecht's head spinning.  When he looked back on what transpired in those few moments, he realized that the course of his life – perhaps the real reason he existed – was distilled into two monosyllabic responses.

Braska turned in place to face the man from Zanarkand.  "Jecht, I want you to become my Guardian."

Auron's head snapped up; eyes opened wide.  Part of him had expected this response, but he still couldn't believe it was happening.  He made one and only one attempt to stop it.  "Jecht, before you answer him, you must understand something.  It would be wrong for you to enter into a covenant without full knowledge of what is required.  If you become a Guardian, you pledge your life to protecting this man.  You will follow where he leads until his death.  His needs must come before your own and you will be committing yourself to the Journey – to helping Braska fight and defeat Sin."  Auron moved from his position before the door and crossed the short distance between himself and the blitzer.  "If you answer 'yes' to my Lord, I will hold you to your vow.  You will fulfill it or I will send you to the Farplane myself.  Do you understand?"

Jecht didn't understand.  Not really.  Braska was standing there waiting for an answer.  For some reason he couldn't articulate, Jecht trusted the Summoner.  Perhaps he responded the way he did because he wanted to give something back to the man who got him out of jail.  Perhaps he responded the way he did because Auron was always pushing his buttons and he hated feeling put down.  Perhaps he responded the way he did because it was his fate to do so.  But, in the end, the reason didn't really matter.  Jecht narrowed his eyes at the warrior before him and said contemptuously, "yeah."

"Hn," Auron grunted in response.  

Stepping up, Braska extended his staff before him, horizontal to the ground.  His hands placed shoulder width apart on the smooth wood surface; he extended the rod outward toward Jecht.  "Place your hands next to mine, Jecht."

Eyes darting, and feeling suddenly unsure of himself, Jecht slid the packs from his shoulder and put the blitzball on top of them so it wouldn't roll down the stairs.  He reached forward hesitantly and placed his hands next to Braska's on the staff.

The Summoner looked at Auron and said, "Tell him the Oath."

Auron took a deep breath and spoke The Oath of Guardianship;

"In the presence of almighty Yevon, I do declare and swear before these people here assembled that I shall do the utmost my power to protect and defend my Summoner against all threat whatever.  
  
"I do further declare that I will help, assist, and advise all or any other Summoners that Journey to defeat Sin.  
  
"I do further promise and declare that I will have no opinion or will of my own nor any mental reservation whatever, even in death, but will unhesitatingly obey each and every command that I may receive from my Summoner, thinking always of that which is right and true. I shall continually practice the art and science of my chosen weapons that I may be a living shield and spinning blade that protects my Summoner from harm. Waking first, and sleeping last, I shall be ever vigilant, seeing everything accurately and without the distortion of irrationality, being aware always of that which is not obvious. By uncovering that which is hidden, I may be a shelter for my Summoner in time of trial. I shall understand the harm and benefit in all things, being careful even in small matters, and doing nothing useless, that I may safeguard my Summoner and put always his needs and well-being before my own.  
  
"I will go forth to any part of Spira – from the frozen heights of Mt. Gagazet, to the jungle forests of Kilika, through the storm filled Gandof Thunder Plains, into the crystalline forests of Macalania, across the barren Calm Lands, and to the unknown of Zanarkand as directed by my charge.  
  
"I hereby dedicate my life, soul, and all corporal powers to this task. Should I prove false, or weaken in my determination, may Yevon strike me down and make me a fiend for all time."

"It is much to ask, Jecht," Braska said quietly as Auron's baritone voice fell silent.  "Yet, I ask it.  I choose you to be my Guardian.  Will you accept?"

No one could have been more shocked than Jecht at his immediate reply.  The voice the said it sounded like someone else.  "Yes."

Braska smiled.

"My Lord, I should take Jecht to the temple Keeper of Records and have his name added to the Rolls."  Auron's voice seemed to startle the two as they looked at each other.  "Might I suggest that you rest?  Jecht and I will pass our evening in mediation and study to fulfill the requirements of the rituals.  You may approach the Fayth in the morning."

The Summoner nodded his response and said, "thank you, Auron."  He lowered his staff and picked up the packs from the floor.  Braska carefully handed the blitzball to Jecht.  "A Guardian should never be without his weapons."

Reaching out, Jecht took the ball and tucked it under his right arm.  The expression on his face was complex and unreadable – somewhere between shock, fear, and disbelief lay the truth of how he felt.  Not knowing what else to do Jecht shrugged and said, "Sure.  Thanks."

Braska left the two Guardians standing before the entry to the Trials.  The Summoner walked gracefully down the stairs and, after stopping to speak with a priest, entered a small room to the left.  Jecht just stood there, watching, until the wooden door shut behind Braska and sealed him away.  Then, Auron spoke and the blitzer turned to face him.

"Come with me."

----------------------- 

Jecht was bored out of his mind.

He'd been stuck in the cloister for going on four hours.  After a quick stop in a library to have some old bald man scratch Jecht's name on a piece of paper, the warrior had commandeered a couple of teen-aged boys in white dresses.  Pushing Jecht ahead of him, Auron had stuffed him in the small room telling him he'd be back.

After about an hour of Jecht pacing the little room, Auron had returned.  It was a bit of a shock.  Instead of wearing his normal red coat, gray pants, and armor plating, he was in a set of priest's robes.  They were a touch short and a little snug in the shoulders.  Jecht figured Auron must have borrowed them from someone.  Long black hair loose, and the boys following behind him, Auron carried some kind of cloth and the sword he had selected for Jecht.  The young men carried a large basin of water, some bottles of something, and a small box.

"Jecht, you need to get undressed and stand in the center of the room," Auron said quietly.

"What?"  The blitzer's eyebrows rose at the directive.

With an expression of forced patience on his face, Auron said, "You heard me.  Strip."

"What the hell for?"

Auron sighed.  "Jecht, there are rituals that must be observed for you to become Braska's Guardian.  Simply saying 'yes' is not enough."  The boys moved to stand on either side of the scruffy man.  They placed their burdens on the floor at their feet and waited.  "Once you have removed your clothing, these two dedicated will assist me in washing and anointing you.  We will bless you weapons.  Your clothing and armor will be taken away, washed, repaired, and blessed.  You will spend the day in this room, naked before an altar.  You will meditate on the Oath of Guardianship as you fast and deprive yourself of sleep.  I will also bring you the Scrolls of Guardianship.  You will read all ten scrolls.  I will stay with you, though it is not technically a correct observance of the rituals, so you may ask me any questions you have regarding the material."  Auron came to stand before Jecht and looked directly in his eyes.  His final words were a stern and deliberate order. "Now, remove your clothing."

Two hours later, Jecht was washed, covered in some kind of scented oil, and was kneeling on a cold stone floor in front of an altar that had strange symbols all over it.  Incense was burning in the room and the combination of the cloyingly sweet odor; the sandalwood of the oil, and an empty stomach was starting to make him sick.  Auron and the dedicated exited the room to allow Jecht time for 'reflection' as the warrior retrieved the scrolls.  

Jecht was starting to wonder if everyone was a religious fanatic.

It wasn't long before Auron returned, this time with the old bald guy who had scribbled down Jecht's name in a book.  Each had five large scrolls.  About the length of Jecht's forearm, each was made of some kind of strong white cloth attached at the ends to ornately carved wooden dowels and bound with scarlet cording.  Carefully placing the items in a stack on Jecht's right, Auron turned to the old man and bowed.  The blitzer's eyes widened.

~~What the hell?  He just did the blitzball sign of victory!~~

Auron turned to speak to Jecht and stopped when he saw the look on the man's face.  "Is there something wrong, Jecht?"

"What's that thing you just did?"  

Tilting his head slightly to the right and narrowing his eyes, Auron said, "What do you mean?  This?"  He performed the motion again.

"Yeah.  What's that?"  Jecht's expression was intent.

"It is called the Sign of Prayer," Auron said.  "It is a sacred ritual greeting that bestows the blessings Yevon.  I am sure you have seen Braska perform some abbreviated version of this motion before.  Is there a problem?"

Jecht didn't reply.  He just sat there, frowning, as he thought back over the last few days and tried to remember.  

~~No.  Braska bowed, but he didn't do **that**.  I woulda remembered **that**….~~

Reaching up, Jecht ran an oiled hand through his hair and then scratched at the back of his neck.  It didn't really make sense to him.  First, the tune he liked turned out to be a holy song.  Now the blitzball sign for victory was a blessing of god.  

~~That's it.  I gotta be dreamin'  I'm gonna wake up in a hospital with a straight jacket on.~~

Auron was becoming concerned.  "Jecht?"

The blitzer decided not to ask any more questions about the issue and changed the subject.  "So, I'm supposed ta read these read these things, right?"  He motioned at the rather large pile next to him.

Thinking Jecht was acting rather odd; Auron hesitated before nodding and saying,  "Yes."

Jecht arched an eyebrow and said incredulously, "All of em?"

"Yes," Auron replied, "**all** of them."

"I gotta read **all that** in **one night**?!  You gotta be kiddin' me, Auron.  I don't read that much in a year!"

Auron closed his eyes and his hands clenched reflexively.  He sighed deeply.

//Well, it did take **me** about that long…//

Opening his eyes, Auron picked up the top scroll and moved to Jecht's left.  He untied the scroll as he knelt next to the man and laid it out on the floor.  "Here, help hold it open," he said as he rolled the right end out toward Jecht.  The blitzer took the wood dowel in his hand and the two men stretched the scroll out to its full length.  Pointing to the far top left of the scroll Auron began…

"Now, pay attention, Jecht.  I am only going through this once."

----------------------

By the time dawn arrived, Jecht was starving.  He and Auron had been going over the scrolls all night.  The blitzer thought his head was going to split in two.  

"Auron," he growled, pressing his hands to either side of his head, "If I hear you say one more fuckin' word I'm gonna kill ya."

The warrior had to work hard to suppress a laugh.  He got lucky.  The door opened and a dedicated entered with Jecht's clothing and weapons.  The distraction allowed Auron to regain some composure.  "Thank you," he said.  Receiving Jecht's outfit, arm guard, sword, and blitzball he moved and placed them on the altar.  Turning, he performed the sign of Prayer to dismiss the dedicated.  "May Yevon watch over you, dedicated."

"And you also, Sir Auron," the young man replied.  He returned the Sign of Prayer and, remaining bowed, walked backward out the door.

Turning to Jecht, Auron said, "Well, at the risk of grave personal injury, I believe we are finished.  Get dressed.  I will meet you outside."  Smiling, Auron bowed deeply and left.

~~Damn.  When do I get to **eat** something!?~~

---------------------  

Jecht stayed hungry for a long time.

Watching the blitzer pace back and forth, Auron wondered if it was possible to wear a grove in the stone floor.  Braska had been in the Chamber of the Fayth for only two hours and the warrior was already considering using his only sleep potion on the man.  Jecht seemed incapable of standing still for more than a few moments.  It was maddening the way the man fidgeted constantly.  Finally, completely fed up with the situation, Auron growled,  "Pick a spot and stand for Yevon's sake!"

Jecht turned to look at Auron.  He tossed his hands upward in frustration.  "Whaddaya want from me?  I sat still all night…I read the stupid scrolls…Lighten up, will ya!"

Auron let out a put-upon sigh, closed his eyes, and leaned against a pillar to wait.

//If I drugged him, Braska would be angry.//

For a while last night, Auron almost enjoyed Jecht's company.  When the man wasn't being a cocky, self-centered, show-off, he was actually tolerable.  Jecht had surprised Auron by asking some rather pointed and intelligent questions as they went over the information in the Scrolls of Guardianship.  Cracking jokes in an effort to thaw Auron's frosty demeanor, Jecht had almost managed to illicit a laugh from the warrior on several occasions.  Not wanting to encourage him, Auron had forced himself to frown and said sternly, "Jecht, this is not a joking matter.  Pay attention."

After dressing, Jecht had come out of the cloister yawning and cracking his knuckles.  When Auron had explained that Braska was waiting for them in the Great Hall the man had frowned.  "When's breakfast?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," was Auron's reply.  It hadn't gone over well.

Swiftly darting into a small room off the main hall, Auron had changed clothing and returned the borrowed Robes of Office.  Thanking the priest for his assistance, he made a mental note to have Braska say something to the man before they left the temple.  Auron had quickly left to join Jecht at Braska's side and the group had entered the trials.

The maze had taken quite a time.  The Trials were cold and the puzzle, while not as intricate as the one at St. Bevelle, was maddening.  Trudging up and down ice slick ramps was not Auron's idea of fun.  Jecht, however, slid across the floor and juggled the spheres, making Braska laugh.  The man's irreverence seemed to delight the Summoner.  Auron just grunted in exasperation.

Finally, they completed the ice bridge.  Entering the antechamber that allowed access to the Chamber of the Fayth Braska had turned to face his Guardians.  Performing the Sign of Prayer, Auron had told Braska, "We will be here when you return, Lord."

Now, Auron was wondering if he could tolerate Jecht long enough to keep his word.  Jecht had taken to playing with the blitzball in an effort to distract himself.  Alternating between strikes with his fist, and kicks with his foot, the man from Zanarkand was rhythmically pounding the ball against a stone wall.  The sound was driving Auron crazy.

"Enough!"  The warrior's voice rang in the enclosure.  He thrust himself off the stone pillar and strode over to Jecht.  "If you have so much energy to expend, we will begin your sword training."  Auron reached out and snatched the blitzball from Jecht's hands.

"Sword training?" Jecht said.  "How long is Braska gonna be in there?"

"Until he is finished," responded Auron.

Jecht looked at the warrior and narrowed his eyes.  His tone of voice made it clear he was more than a bit upset.  "I've had about enough of you."

"That makes two of us," Auron growled in response.  "Now get out the sword.  You are a Guardian and need to know how to use it."

The two stood there, staring each other down, and suddenly Auron's head jerked toward the entry to the Chamber of the Fayth.  His eyes flashed wide in a strange expression and he took off running up the stairs.

Before Jecht could ask what was going on, the door began to rise.  Braska, leaning heavily on his staff and obviously shaking, forced himself forward to clear the doorway.  Auron was almost too late.  The Summoner, staff tangled in his long robes, tripped and began to fall forward.  The staff clattered as it rolled down the stone steps.

Reaching out, Auron grabbed Braska before he struck the floor.  "Braska!"  The warrior's voice was full of concern.

Jecht's eyes widened and he kicked himself into action, racing to catch up to Auron.  Taking the stairs two at a time, he joined the warrior and said in a worried voice,  "What the hell happened?"

Braska lay limp in Auron's arms.  Swallowing hard, the warrior said, "Jecht, get your ball and stand back."

"Why?  What the hell's goin' on?"

Resting the form of the Summoner on his lap, Auron put a hand back to the hilt of his sword.  His lip trembling he stated, "He may have become a heretic, Jecht."  A ring of steel followed the words as Auron drew his sword and held it at the ready.

The blitzer's eyes widened.  Most of what he'd read in the Scrolls was a jumbled mess.  But one thing had come through clearly – if a Summoner went into the Chamber of the Fayth and failed, it was a death sentence.  

Braska began to stir in Auron's grasp.  The warrior's response to the action was immediate.  "Lord, did you obtain the Aeon?"  Auron's voice made the question a demand and the sword was dangerously close to Braska's neck.

The silence that fell in response was terrifying.  Jecht was frozen – unable to move.  He couldn't imagine having to kill Braska.  He could see little Yuna's face in his mind – the pretty eyes and happy smile.  He thought of having to go back to Bevelle and tell the girl her father was dead – tell her he'd helped to kill him.  Jecht knew he couldn't do it.

Auron took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  The shock of magic that had run through the warrior before Braska appeared had been different than Bevelle.  Stronger.  He'd felt fear.  He tried one last time to reach his friend.  "Braska.  Please."  A gloved hand moved and brushed the long sweat-matted hair away from the Summoner's face.  "Answer me…" he pleaded.

The words that left Braska were so soft that even Auron couldn't hear. Bowing his head close to that of the Summoner he said, "Lord?"

Jecht couldn't hear the response but the meaning was clear.  An audible sigh of relief escaped him when Auron's face split into smile.  The warrior began to laugh.   "Braska, you truly are incorrigible…"

The Summoner began to move.  Auron quickly sheathed his sword and helped him to his knees.  Braska turned his head to look at Jecht.  "Well, it seems I gave you both a scare," he said.  "I am sorry."

Jecht, satisfied that things were all right, trotted down the steps and retrieved the staff and packs while Auron helped Braska down the stairs.  "Anything I can do?" he asked.

Auron was a bit surprised.  Jecht's question wasn't directed at Braska.  He shook his head in response.  "No.  We are all right."

Braska looked back and forth between the two men.  Something had happened between them.  Jecht seemed more relaxed around Auron, and the Call was not filled with quite as much frustration.  Pleased, he smiled softly and let the warrior lead him out of the antechamber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok.  This should be the last post before I leave for China.  I'm afraid you'll have to wait until sometime near the end of October for the next update.  Thanks for reading – and a HUGE thanks to those that review.  

A


	12. On the Road: Chapter One, Strained Relat...

**Braska's Journey  
On the Road – Chapter One – Strained Relations**

They had been on the road for two days and Jecht was trying to decide if Auron would really try to kill him if he walked away.  The situation was rapidly becoming intolerable to the laid-back blitz player.  Sure, he had made a commitment to take care of Braska and the man was, so far, his only way home, but he didn't realize the pair was going to bicker so damn much.

This morning was a replay of the morning before and Jecht was feeling pretty uncomfortable.  He figured that Auron was either stubborn or not very bright.  Jecht had seen enough now to be pretty sure it was the former.  It didn't help that he was hung over.

~~You'd think Auron woulda got the message yesterday.~~

After Braska obtained the Aeon, the group stayed at the temple for two days.  Auron insisted that he was not feeling well due to his injuries, but it was clearly an excuse to keep Braska from traveling.  Instead of resting, Auron spent all his time drilling Jecht in the use of his new sword.  The two shared a small room in the garrison barracks while Braska stayed in the temple and there had been no escaping the warrior's watchful eyes.  To say that the blitzer was a bit sick of the guy by the time they left would have been an understatement.  

Then, instead of staying at the travel stop Auron had simply popped in to replenish some supplies and they were off again.  They had two skirmishes with fiends before selecting a campsite in the woods just off the main path.  Auron, all business, set a "watch" schedule for the group.  Jecht was to take first shift, followed by Auron at second, and Braska last.  No one really had a problem with the suggestion.  

After sharing some cold rations, Auron insisted on drilling Jecht in another kata lesson.  Much as the blitzer wanted to tell the warrior to stuff it, he knew the man was right.  After about an hour of sparring, and a bit of friendly chatter between Jecht and Braska, the group settled in for the night.  

Jecht's watch was uneventful and he was rather reassured.  Given what had happened the last time he was in the forest at night, he couldn't help feeling a bit nervous.  Eyes darting, the blitz star kept on constant alert after Auron and Braska drifted off to sleep.  It seemed like very little time passed when Auron woke up and relieved him.  Jecht was starting to get tired from the stress and was glad to turn over the responsibility.  While he had a bit of new found confidence using the blitzball as a weapon, he still was untested with the sword and he wasn't all that eager to try it out.

The next thing Jecht knew, Auron was waking him up.  The sun was just breaking and Braska was still lying, asleep, on the ground to his left.  He thought it was pretty odd, but didn't say anything.  Auron handed him a pack of rations and quietly told him to get the rest of the things together.  Then the fireworks started.

Auron went to Braska and woke him up.  When the Summoner realized it was morning, he was very displeased.  A heated argument between the two ensued and Jecht did his best to melt into the background and keep some kind of watch while Braska gave Auron a verbal dressing down.  

Braska felt very strongly that he should not be treated differently.  He made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he expected to take a turn at watch and would not stand for Auron pulling a double shift.

"This is completely unacceptable!"  Braska's placid voice was stern and his face clearly showed his anger.  "I am not a child that must be coddled, nor am I some relic that must be protected.  I am perfectly capable of taking a turn at watch and I will not tolerate being patronized."

"It was not my intent to be patronizing, Lord."  Auron attempted to justify his actions.  "You were exhausted and, after two days of rest, I was not.  I simply felt it better to allow you the extra sleep."

Braska wasn't buying it.  "Auron, I fail to see the logic in your argument.  Instead of three rested men capable of fighting, there are only two.  I can tell you are tired.  It will affect your reflexes and your healing.  We have, at minimum, a hard day of travel and another night of watch before we reach the Thunder Plains.  For you to deplete yourself like this without necessity is foolish!"    

Jecht figured Braska had a point but wasn't about to say a word.  The glower on Auron's face made it clear the warrior wouldn't have taken kindly to a comment.  

The argument continued hotly for several minutes. Finally, the tongue-lashing was finished and the group got under way.  Walking in silence, both Braska and Auron brooded and spent quite a bit of time glancing at each other in what Jecht was pretty sure was irritation.  There was something else going on, but he wasn't sure what.  Unable to stand the quiet any longer, the blitzer started questioning Braska about their next destination.  While it seemed to irritate Auron to no end, the Summoner quickly fell into easy conversation and seemed to put the argument out of his mind.  Since Jecht could have cared less about what Auron liked or didn't like, the glares he received made absolutely no difference.

It wasn't long before the attacks started.  While the appearance of fiends still startled Jecht, Braska and Auron were not caught unaware.  The pair, though barely speaking to one another, worked in perfect synchronicity.  Both would call out suggestions to Jecht as they flew into the fray.  Braska, in particular, attempted to give the man from Zanarkand information about what he was fighting – making sure to name the fiend and give a known weakness.  After the fight, the Summoner would give more details and try to explain the magic he had used.  Jecht found it fascinating.  

In no time, the group fell into a rhythm.  Flans and elements quickly went down with casts of magical fire.  Auron and his huge blade made swift work of mafdets and their tough shell-covered exteriors.  Jecht found that he could swat a wasp or an evil eye out of the sky with a flick of the wrist and his blitzball.  

Things like wolves, xiphos, and chimera were another matter all together.

While Jecht could dodge just about anything, Auron had some serious issues.  It was swiftly apparent why Braska had a tendency to cast haste on the warrior.  Twice, wolves he couldn't dodge had bitten the young man.  Another time a xiphos had taken a good swat and Braska was forced to heal him.  The luck had come into play when a pair of chimera accosted them.  There were several areas where butterflies were thick and it was all but impossible to avoid touching them – the chimera seemed to be their favorite form of defense.  Braska was about to summon an Aeon when a pair of Crusaders had shown up on patrol.  Augmented to a party of five, the group rapidly had the situation under control.  The whole incident left Jecht a bit worried though.  He didn't know much about the whole Summoning thing, but he had the impression that it was difficult and drained Braska.  He thought he remembered Auron saying that the Aeon could only be called a few times before Braska had to rest.  

~~ If Braska couldn't call an Aeon, we'd be in serious trouble.~~

Snacking as they went, the group didn't stop to rest until Auron picked a campsite for the night.  Everyone, especially the young warrior, was exhausted.  Even Jecht could tell the man had over extended himself.  Braska offered to take first watch but Auron argued against it.  The warrior suggested they stick with the previous night's roster and made the point that it was better to have the Summoner fully rested before his shift.  

The next few seconds were an obvious test of wills.  Jecht had been a sporting man most of his life.  Half the game was the psych-out before the match.  If you could assert your will over your opponents before you ever got in the blitz sphere it gave you an advantage - just like having someone play on your home court gave you an advantage.  It was clear from Braska's body posture and gaze that the Summoner was attempting some kind of power play.  Auron, in turn, was standing there like a rock; completely unphased.  

Long moments past as the two continued to silently stare at one another.  Jecht found it rather interesting.  In the two weeks since he met them, he had seen several moments like this – as though the two were having some kind of silent argument.  Finally, Braska shook his head slightly and said, "Fine.  I will accept it **for now**.  But, I reserve the right to revisit this."

Auron's almost miniscule nod included a bit of a bow.  Jecht almost laughed at this tiny toss off of a gesture.  Now that the warrior had won the contest, he was happy to show that Braska was still boss.  

Dinner was another cold and quiet affair.  Auron did not suggest sparring as he had the day before and swiftly rolled himself up in a blanket to rest.  The Summoner looked at the young man as he laid there, his expression filled with concern, and then finally went to sleep himself.

Toward the end of Jecht's shift, he heard something moving.  Prepping his blackout, he crouched a bit and headed for Braska's sleeping form, intending to wake him.  Suddenly, there was a grunt.  The shadowed silhouette of Auron was illuminated as pyreflies filled the air.  Jecht bounded toward the path and let the ball fly at a remaining bee.  "You OK?"

The warrior sagged a bit, as if in relief, before addressing Jecht.  "Yes, thank you.  I was about to come to you for my watch when I saw them."

"Why didn't you say somethin'?"  Jecht was more than a little concerned.  "I didn't even hear you leave camp."

Auron didn't bother with words.  His look said it all.  With an arched eyebrow, the implication that Jecht was incapable had been hurled into the conversation.  The blitzer was instantly pissed off.  He'd opened the door to it, and he was just as mad at himself for giving Auron the opening as he was at Auron for taking it.  Seething, Jecht glared at the warrior and said, "Next time, maybe I won't save your ass."

The response was a simple swift shrug of indifference.

Jecht stalked back into camp, snatched his bag, and grabbed a blanket.  Smarting from the insult and the implication that he was inferior, the man did what he usually did.  He opened a bottle of Al Bhed whiskey and drank.  Glaring at Auron as the warrior paced around the area he nursed the bottle until he passed out.

In the morning, Jecht was awakened by the hushed tones of arguing voices.  There was something wholly unsurprising about it.  Lying still, he tried to keep from being noticed as Braska raked Auron over the coals.

"Auron, this is intolerable!  I cannot believe that you have done this!" 

"I was simply trying to take care of you, Braska.  You were so drained by the joining at the temple…"

Braska cut him off.  "And you believe that gives you the right to ignore my requests?  Is this how a Guardian fulfills the Oaths?"

"Yes, it is!  I swore to put your needs and well-being before my own – to protect you and ensure your safety!"

"You also swore to obey me."  Even at a low pitch, the accusation in the Summoner's voice was unmistakable.  "Auron, I did not want to do this.  I told you I wanted a friend on my Journey and not a retainer.  I did not want to give you orders, but you give me no choice.  I see now that I must."

There was a long pause.  Jecht itched to roll over and see what was happening.  Finally, Braska sighed deeply and said, "You are relieved of your watch duties."

"What!"  Auron's voice was loud and would have been enough to wake Jecht if he hadn't already been listening.

"I can no longer trust you.  You are relieved."

"Braska this is ridiculous!  Why not simply change it so you take first watch?"  Auron's voice raised another notch.

"Since it is an easy enough task for one of my Guardian's to pull a double shift, then it will be even simpler for Jecht and I to share the entire watch, no?"  Braska's voice was laden with sarcasm.  "I am sure Jecht will not mind the extra work."

~~Excuse me?~~

Jecht heard a rustle of fabric and the sound of soft footfalls heading in his direction.  Apparently, Braska felt the conversation was over and intended to settle the matter by waking the man in question.  He wasn't sure what to do.  The idea of having to stand watch twice as long was not appealing.  Suddenly this argument was more personal.  After being so vividly shown his lack of capability last night, the blitzer was more than a bit apprehensive.  He would never have admitted it to anyone, but the fact that those fiends got so close to camp without him knowing had really thrown him.  Auron was right.  He wasn't competent.  

As if the young man could hear Jecht's thoughts, the words came flying.  "Lord Braska, you must be joking!  After watch last night, he drank until he passed out.  Had we been attacked he would have been of no use at all.  The man has to be given direction during battle, cannot wield a blade, and didn't even see fiends approaching the campsite!  How can you possibly expect that he can…"

Braska had put a hand to Jecht's shoulder when Auron mentioned the fiends.  The blitzer felt the man's hand go rigid before it left him.  The Summoner's voice was soft and angry.  "What?"

Though he couldn't see, Jecht knew Auron realized his mistake.  The silence said it all.

Figuring that pretending sleep any longer wouldn't help, he made a snap decision.  Auron was right.  Sure, the guy shouldn't have pulled shifts and should have respected Braska's request – but putting them a man down in the dark was just as stupid.  Someone had to start talking sense.

Rolling over to face the scene, Jecht blinked a bit and said, "Hey.  What's up?"

Actually seeing the two of them was worse than imagining.  Braska was livid.  Jecht made the decision right then and there that he was never going to piss Braska off if he could help it.  Auron looked absolutely mortified and the Summoner was stone.

Without turning, Braska said, "I'm sorry, Jecht.  Auron was just explaining to me that fiends approached the camp last night."  If the air had been frosty in the Macalania Woods before, it was down right frigid now.

"Uh, yeah.  He took care of it."  Jecht leapt to Auron's defense.  "I didn't do much.  Just tossed a ball at a little wasp is all.  He had it under control."

The response was not entirely unexpected, but still wasn't pretty.  The mocking tone rose in pitch as Braska let them both have it.  "Oh, really?  How nice that the two of you have become such friends that you make decisions for the entire party without my input."  He strode over and closed the distance between himself and Auron.  "I am so disappointed in you."

What happened next was strange.  Braska closed his eyes in an expression of sadness.  Then, he placed his hand softly to the side of Auron's face.  The warrior's eyes shot open and he gasped.  The look of shame that passed over the young man's face stunned Jecht.  The blitzer had no idea what to do.

The Summoner resolved the issue for him.  Without a word, Braska withdrew his hand and began to pack up his blanket.  "Jecht, if you do not mind, we will eat as we walk.  I no longer wish to stay here." 

Jecht just nodded and rushed to pack up.  Auron was still standing there, frozen in place with that look on his face.  Just when it seemed that the young man might not come with them, he jerked himself forward.  Picking up his pack, the warrior addressed Braska.  His face had become an emotionless mask but his voice was angry.  "My Lord, I will take point if I am **allowed**."

The stress on the last word might have made another man cringe.  Not Braska.  He didn't even look at Auron as he responded.  "No, you are not **allowed**.  I will take point and Jecht the rear.  Until you prove to me that I can depend on you and your decisions, consider yourself censured."

Auron stood and watched Braska in disbelief as the man swept past him to the path.  Jecht hesitated only a moment before he darted after him.

~~This is gonna be a long trip.~~

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

A/N:

Hello all.  I must apologize for taking so long to update this fic.  The trip to China was VERY productive.  I managed almost 200 rolls of black and white, about 35 of color, and almost 2000 digital pictures.  So far, if early statistics hold, I'll have at least 40 "perfect" black and white negatives for printing.  I have FAR too many "good" ones to count – but "perfect" negs mean I couldn't mess up the print in darkroom if I tried.  At this rate, I'm hoping for a gallery showing some time in July.

Needless to say, with the kind of numbers I just mentioned, I've been more than a tad busy with "real life."  I will continue to be so.  However, don't fret.  I won't be taking this long to get out my next chapter.  While I doubt I will be updating several times a week as I did with LG, I will definitely be shooting for a chapter a week starting in January.  I may not always make the goal, but I'll do my best.  Since I have some family and social responsibilities for the Holiday season, I'm giving myself until the end of the month to get back up to speed.

Thanks to all of you who are reading – both for your input and your patience.

A


	13. On the Road: Chapter Two, Storms

**Braska's Journey  
On the Road – Chapter Two – Storms**

Braska walked a short distance ahead, his staff before him, as they traveled through the forest.  The Summoner was torn between his duties as party leader and his disappointment over Auron's behavior.  Though Braska knew the warrior had been motivated by concern and caring, it didn't excuse the fact that what Auron had done was wrong.  Even now, he could sense the lingering exhaustion of the younger man as they walked.  It was all Braska could do to push the emotions and physical feelings that the Call fed him out of his mind.  Auron was radiating a myriad of emotions in addition to fatigue and it was tiring.

As they moved through the woods toward the Gandof Thunder Plains, the tension grew.  Jecht made a few attempts to draw Auron into conversation and they were all gruffly rebuffed.  Braska had to admit that the situation wasn't good.  Auron was right on several counts.  Jecht had no idea what they would face on the road ahead and it put all of them at severe disadvantage.  He had intended to spend the morning explaining the terrain and educating Jecht about the fiends ahead, but he no longer had that luxury.  Now, the man would have to learn by doing and it would make travel through the plains quite a bit slower.

There was more than one reason to be concerned about the rate of their passage through the area.  In addition to the difficulties of avoiding the frequent lightening strikes, some of the fiends that roamed the area – iron giants, larva, and elements – could deal serious damage.  Adding to these already formidable obstacles was the fact that Auron would likely have difficulty with the crossing.

Though Auron spent a lot of time denying it, the weeks he had spent in the dungeons of St. Bevelle effected his reactions in battle.  In particular, Braska could feel lingering fear through the Call when the warrior was attacked with magic.  He had tried on several prior to leaving Bevelle to discuss the situation with Auron, but the young man responded with stoicism and silence.  The Summoner realized that, to a large extent, repressing his emotions brought about Auron's recent behavior.  However, with the addition of Jecht as their travel companion, it was difficult to find a private moment to address the issues without causing Auron embarrassment.  Now, he had been forced to reprimand him in front of Jecht when he would have preferred to discuss the matter in confidence.

By mid-morning, the group had been accosted several times by flyers.  Auron fell back on his father's knives in an attempt to keep Braska from draining himself and casting too many spells but it was in vain.  Though Jecht's confidence level in battle was increasing and he was a quick study - he remembered the information Braska imparted about the weaknesses of the fiends they had encountered thus far and he put it to good use – he was still learning.  The blackout ball that Auron had chosen often gave them that little advantage needed to keep them from injury.  But, in spite of the combined efforts of both Guardians, Braska still taxed his reserves far too often and Auron's concern grew.

Risking the wrath of his friend by pointing out the severity of the situation after a particularly draining encounter with a pair of elements, Auron made a suggestion.  "Lord, we should rest and have something to eat.  There is a small clearing ahead.  It may be our last opportunity for shelter."

The forest had begun to thin out and the low rumble of thunder was clearly audible.  Shelter from the eternal storms of the Thunder Plains could only be found near a few of the towers that dotted the area or at the Al Bhed travel stop.  Staying out in the open was dangerous and fiends waited near the towers to catch unsuspecting travelers.  Braska carefully considered his options.  Auron was right.  However, he was still annoyed from the morning's argument and part of him didn't want to rest simply because the warrior had put forward the suggestion.  

Jecht could tell the two were about to tangle again.  He stepped in.  "Uh, Braska. Would ya mind?  I'm starvin'."

Braska sighed and nodded his assent.  The group was quickly ensconced in a large half-hollow tree trunk.  Offering only one approach, the location was easily defended by only one individual.  Auron rummaged in his pack and passed out rations, making sure he offered an extra packet of roasted flower seeds and a vial of ether to Braska.  It was a quiet peace offering that didn't go unnoticed.

Jecht shifted himself toward the opening of the tree trunk and turned his back on Auron and Braska.  He clearly intended to take watch as he ate and the pair didn't question his decision to do so.   

Knowing it would likely be his last opportunity, Braska moved close to Auron.  He pitched his voice low in an effort to save the warrior embarrassment in front of Jecht.  "Auron, we can camp outside the plains tonight if you wish.  I know that the crossing will be difficult for you and…"

Auron gruffly cut him off.  "Thank you for your concern, Lord.  I would rather get it over with."

"You are sure?"  Braska reached out a hand and touched Auron lightly on the shoulder.

The warrior was annoyed and didn't try to hide it.  Reaching up a gloved hand, Auron brushed Braska's away defensively.  "I am sure."  

"I only want to…"

Auron didn't let Braska finish the sentence.  "What you wanted was to manipulate the Call," he snapped.  "I am fine." 

Braska bowed his head.  He would get nowhere if he continued to press.  Discretion being the better part of valor, Braska simply nodded sadly and moved away.  

"Jecht, if it is all right with you, I will get a bit of rest.  I should wake in about a half an hour and we can continue."

Jecht grunted his agreement.  "No problem, Braska."

The Summoner leaned back against the tree, shifting to find a comfortable position.  Taking a small metal box from his robes, he opened it to reveal a metal and glass atomizer.  Inserting the vial of ether in one end, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply several times.  He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

----------------

When Braska woke from his curative rest the group set out again.  Auron silently followed, absorbed in thought.  Realizing he had no one to blame for the situation but himself, he was angry.  He had upset his friend and consciously disobeyed an order.  The worst of it was that he felt no remorse for his actions.  While he did feel humiliated that Braska had dressed him down in front of Jecht, he didn't regret his actions.  Instead, he felt guilty that he was unrepentant about his act of defiance.  

The warrior wondered how long Braska would insist on punishing him.  There were practical matters to consider, though he understood the point that was being made.  His choice to pick a fight over Braska standing watch had backfired in more ways than one.  Not only had it resulted in restrictions that limited his ability to protect his friend, but Auron had broken a trust.  In hindsight, he realized he could have handled the situation with more finesse but he had never been good at being subtle.  It was exactly that quality that made him a good leader on the battlefield.  Though strategy was important, taking too much time to think in the middle of a fight could get you killed.  A warrior trusted their instincts and put their faith in their training and their God.  As a leader of men, Auron had to make snap decisions without hesitation and convey those orders with authority to those under his command.  He was, frankly, not used to having his decisions questioned anymore.

While Auron had to concede that having another member in their party was beneficial – and that Jecht had proven to be a surprisingly capable fighter – he was still troubled by Braska's choice.  It worried him.  Auron was convinced that it was a matter of time before the man would be too drunk or hung over to depend on.  Every time Jecht had shown himself to be an asset, he followed it up with two acts of amazing stupidity and ineptitude.  The blitzer's speed and his ability to wield a blitzball as a weapon had saved them on more than one occasion, but a ball and luck would only go so far.  The Thunder Plains were far more dangerous than the woods of Macalania.  Iron giants were tough and required combined heavy attacks with piercing weapons.  

To be effective, Jecht needed sword training and there was no time to give it to him.  Auron had tried, in vain, to find some excuse to stay at the Macalania temple for a longer period of time so he could work with the man.  While he still didn't believe Jecht's tales of Zanarkand, he was sure of one thing – the blitzer honestly didn't know what they would face on the road ahead.  Not knowing how Jecht could or would react in the middle of a battle situation was, in his opinion, a risk they couldn't afford.  It could get them all killed.

It all came down this – Braska was more than Auron's Summoner, he was his friend.  It was more then just his duty to protect Braska and watch over him.  He cared.  He knew enough about Braska to realize that the man would overextend himself for a principal.  Jecht couldn't know that, and certainly wouldn't be able to tell when the Summoner had reached his limits.  Somehow, Auron had to swallow his pride and manage to get Braska to see reason.  How he could manage to do that when his friend no longer trusted him was a problem he didn't know how to solve.

The deep rumble of thunder increased and the terrain began to change.  As the trees cleared, the sky grew oppressively black.  Though the canopy of the forest blocked most of the light to the land below, the Macalania woods existed in an ethereal perpetual twilight.  The gathered energy of the sun's rays, stored in the large crystalline spheres atop the trees, created the light bridges and a caused the trunks of the giants to shimmer even in the dead of night.  Now, as the group left the woods behind, the dim light was replaced by gloomy shadow.  Nothing would grow in the perpetual storms of the Thunder Plains.

Periodic flashes of light became clearly visible on the horizon and Auron had to suppress the urge to flinch.  Braska was right; the crossing would be difficult.  He wanted this part of the journey over with as quickly as possible.  

---------------------

Jecht lobbed his ball at the Iron Giant for the third time.  While it wasn't doing much damage to the fiend, it at least blinded the thing and gave the group a chance.  Auron easily dodged the next attack, his movements accelerated by Braska's magic.  The warrior swiftly responded to the assault with a counterstrike.  

"This is not working." Auron returned to Braska's side and had to shout to make himself heard, the rumble of thunder nearly drowning out his voice.

"I should call the Aeon," Braska responded.  Sweeping his staff backward, the Summoner moved swiftly to act on his words.  Auron stopped him, a hand on the wooden shaft.

"We are too far from shelter.  If you drain yourself we will have nothing in reserve."

The fiend attacked.  Braska jumped sideways, narrowly avoiding a strike by a massive sword.  As it was, the blade contacted part of his helm and sent the thing flying from his head exposing his hair to the incessant rain.  "What do you suggest?"

"Well I don't care whatcha do!  Just get rid of this thing!"  Jecht was getting frustrated and prepped for another toss.  The blindness spell was wearing off again.  Shaking its head, the giant took the opportunity to find a target.  Just as Jecht was about to let the ball fly, the fiend took its massive blade in both hands and leapt forward.  

"Watch out!" Braska cried. 

Jecht was already too far into the windup to stop.  Bracing himself for the inevitable, he launched the ball at the fiend and hoped for the best.  The brute slammed into Jecht, its sword slashing downward.  The enormous blade clipped Jecht's throwing arm but missed the rest of him.  He went sprawling backward into the mud, his ball bouncing ineffectually off the fiend's leg and flying away into the darkness of the storm.

Auron reached behind his back and pulled Jecht's sword from its scabbard.  Though the blitzer barely knew how to use it, it was better than nothing.  He quickly tossed the thing at the dazed Jecht and it landed not far from where the man lay.  "Take this!" 

"Jecht, are you all right?" Braska moved a step closer to the blitzer, trying to determine his injuries.  

The man nodded weakly in response.  He took hold of the sword lying near him and staggered to his feet.  His right arm was numb from shoulder to fingertips so he hefted the weapon in his left hand.  It felt awkward, but it was all he could do.  

"I am going to try something."  Unsure it would work, Auron bowed his head and attempted to focus his magical skills in an armor break.  He had been working on the spell for several weeks prior to his imprisonment but had never managed to execute the maneuver.  Guard arm thrust before him, Auron took a deep calming breath and willed it forward.  He was almost shocked when he felt the tickle of magical energy envelope his body and rush to encase his blade.  Without hesitation, he ran forward to attack.  His sword contacted the fiend's iron hide in a resounding crash, cleaving through the metal as if it were soft cheese.  

Badly injured, the fiend refused to give up.  It roared in anger and slashed wildly with the sword.  All three men had to jump backward to avoid the scythe attack.  

Braska moved to make a follow up strike.  Giants had no specific elemental weaknesses so he opted for brute force.  Staff it both hands he rushed at the badly injured fiend he delivered a sharp thrust of his staff forcing the dazed the thing back a step.  After an agonizing half-second, the beast wavered and finally toppled over.  

Braska slumped forward slightly and leaned on his staff to catch his breath.  The encounter was their fifth since entering the plains and the worst skirmish yet.  Auron was so exhausted now that he was bent at the waist and barely able to keep his sword aloft.  Jecht was wounded and had lost a weapon.  They were still too far away from the Al Bhed travel stop to see the building.  "Could you do that again, Auron?"  

The warrior nodded hesitantly, his sword point down in the mud.  "I think so."

Moving to retrieve his helm, Braska turned his attention back to Jecht.  "We need cover before I can look at your arm.  And stow away the swords, they will attract lightening."

Auron up righted himself and unstrapped a scabbard from his back.  Sheathing his own sword, he moved to Jecht's side. "You might as well carry this now, Jecht.  I will see what we have to barter when we reach the Al Bhed shop.  Perhaps I can obtain another ball."

Jecht frowned.  "Gimmie me a hand?  My arm's numb."

Auron nodded and placed the leather holder against Jecht's back.  In a matter of seconds, it was securely fastened and the Sword resting in its new home.  "Lord, shall we make for the next tower?  It has a canopy and should give us enough cover."

The Summoner nodded and the group set out again.  Wet, cold, and exhausted they slogged along the path as fast as they could.  When they reached the tower, Braska examined Jecht's arm and was relieved to find that the bones were intact.  "The shoulder is displaced.  I can adjust it here and then give you a potion.  You should be fine, though you really should rest."

Tilting his head, Jecht's neck popped.  "Do what ya gotta do, Braska.  I can't fight with my arm like this."

Auron held Jecht steady and Braska took hold of his arm.  After a few moments of pulling, there was an audible pop.  Jecht grimaced as the bone slid back into the socket.  

Braska then reached into his robes and withdrew three vials.  He handed the largest to Jecht, another to Auron, and drank the third.  "It has been years since I took this road, but I do not believe the Al Bhed stop to be far from here.  I think we should take a room if possible and try to recover before going further."

Jecht began to cautiously test his right arm.  Flexing his hand, he reached above his head tentatively in a stretch.  He nodded in response to Braska's statement.  "They got showers there?"

Cuffing the man amiably on his good shoulder, Braska smiled and playfully wrinkled his nose.  "Yes, Jecht.  They have showers.  And I, for one, will be happy to have you take one."

-----------------

Another altercation, this time with two larva, ensued not far from the next tower.  The travel stop was still out of sight and stores of potions were running low.  When the fight was over, Braska made a decision.

"Auron, you have been through here more recently.  The shop is on the west side of the plain, is it not?"

"Yes, Lord." 

"I think we should chance a direct route."  Gesturing south with his staff, Braska indicated his intended direction.  "There will be a greater chance of being hit by lightening, but the trail turns east again to the next tower.  If we are careful, and swift, I think we can make it."

Though Auron's outward appearance displayed nothing but resolve, he was struggling to maintain control.  The idea that they would attempt an open crossing frankly terrified him, but he wasn't going to object.  To do so would mean admitting a weakness.  He felt it better to confront his fear in the hope that he could set it aside.

Braska felt a rush of panic through the Call at his suggestion and waited to see what Auron would do.  When the young man said nothing, and the feelings reduced to strong anxiety, he realized Auron had no intention of mentioning it.  He hesitated, trying to decide if he should ask about what he felt.  Finally, he decided against it.  Auron was strong and had been a warrior almost all his life.  He had to trust that the young man knew his limitations.

Stowing his staff on his back, Braska tried to give Jecht a bit of last minute advice.  "We will be exposed as we cross the area.  Without the towers to draw the lightening, our weapons will attract it.  There will be a flash of light that immediately precedes a lightening strike.  If you jump backward fast enough, you should be able to avoid it.  Are we ready?"   

Auron and Jecht both nodded and Braska took the lead.  He set a fast pace, running as quickly as his rain soaked robes would allow.  Attempting this was dangerous, but Braska was certain they could manage. The critical thing was to avoid a fight.  Staying in the open long enough to defeat even one fiend would surely mean at least one hit by lightening.  Braska was not in the mood to be singed.

A flash occurred and Braska jumped backward in response, praying that Auron would be fast enough to avoid the strike.  While there was a ting of fear in the Call, he detected nothing else.  Jecht yelped and Braska turned his head to look, there was a huge scorch mark at the man's feet but he was unscathed.  He ran on.

The outlines of the travel stop finally became discernable amidst the fog.  The sight of it gave Braska a new surge of energy and he put on a bit more speed.  It was a matter of only a few hundred yards now to safety, a hot bath, and a warm bed.  

Something began to shimmer to the right.  Braska slowed a bit, unable to tell what the light source was.  The last thing they needed was to be ambushed.  Veering in the direction of the glow, he squinted into the darkness.

"Lord?"  Auron was beside him now.  "What is it?"

Braska shook his head.  They were too far away.  "I'm not going to find out.  Leave it."

"What the heck are these?"  

The pair turned to see Jecht stopped a few feet away.  Braska knew immediately what he was seeing and his eyes flew open.  "Do not move!"

Remembering the last time those words had been directed at him, the blitzer froze.  Three small green creatures stood not far from Jecht's location.  Their size and appearance made them almost comical.  Resembling a child's toy, the things chittered and giggled at the human before them.

Auron reached slowly behind his back toward the pommel of his sword.  Braska grabbed him by the wrist in response.  "They are cactuar.  I have never seen them outside Sanubia.  Make no sudden movements."

Jecht, still rooted to his spot, asked the first question.  "Ok.  And what about the lightening?"

Braska had no idea what to do.  He had only seen cactuar once before.  A group of Al Bhed he was with had run into one while crossing the desert and it had killed two men before running away, unscathed.  "We've got to get away from these things.  Jecht, move backward **very slowly**.  Whatever you do, don't break eye contact with them.  If they lean forward, run."

"Surely these creatures are no match for our weapons."  Auron glanced at his Summoner.  The Call told him that Braska was terrified of these things.  In his estimation, they looked like nothing more than a black mage's familiar.

"They are extremely fast.  Only a cast of magic can strike them.  When agitated or frightened they shoot poison spines at their target.  They kill almost instantaneously."

Jecht heard Braska's response to Auron's query and did his best to quell panic.  The thought of dying face down in the mud wasn't appealing.  Everything about this world seemed so alien and bizarre.  An insect could defend itself by creating deadly monsters.  Now, something that looked like a stuffed toy could kill a man.  He stepped backward, one agonizing foot at a time until he stood next to Braska.

"If we continue to move slowly away from them, they should not see us as a threat.  Once we are out of range, run."

Almost as one, the group began to move backward.  The cactuar responded by jumping and spinning in place.  The men froze.

"What're they doin' that for?"  Jecht was, for the first time since enter the plains, glad of the rain.  In the storm, no one could tell he was sweating.

"Just keep moving."  

The party began to move again.  This time, Braska remained motionless as Auron and Jecht stepped backward.  After a few seconds, he began to slide backward as well.  

"Just a few more feet."

It seemed to take forever.  Braska kept repeating prayers to Yevon over and over in his head.  Finally, they moved out of range.  "Now!  Run!"

No sooner did the group take off, but a flash occurred.  This time they weren't so lucky.  Jecht and Auron managed the dodge but Braska, encumbered by his sopping wet robes tripped and fell.  The lightning struck him in the back and threw him forward several feet.

"Braska!"

Auron rushed to the Summoner's side and gathered the dazed man in his arms.  The additional weight of the water-laden robes and the staff on Braska's back made him almost impossible to carry.  "Help me!"

Jecht sprinted to Auron's side and took Braska's legs.  While it was awkward, the pair managed to reach the speed of a jog with the man stretched out between them.  When they reached the door of the Travel Stop, Jecht abruptly dropped Braska's legs and threw the door open.  Drenched, the Guardians practically drug their Summoner across the threshold to safety.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

**A/N**  
Sorry to have taken so long getting this to you.  Work is keeping me far busier than I expected and writing time is at a premium.  At this point, I'm expecting slow output for another month or so as I continue to slog through the print process.  Hang in there!  I'm not giving up on the tale.  
A


	14. Guadosalam: Chapter One, Ghosts and Guad...

**Braska's Journey  
Guadosalam – Chapter One – Ghosts and Guado**

Braska's eyes fluttered as he struggled to wake; shaking off the ether.  His body ached, but it was only a minor inconvenience.  A hot shower and a hi-potion would chase the rest of the effects of the lightening strike from his bones.  Sadly, it wasn't going to do much for his wounded pride.

"Hey.  How ya doin?"

A turn of his head brought Jecht, and the rest of the room, into focus.  It was small; two beds separated by a tiny table and certainly not the best in the house.  A sleeping mat was rolled neatly and stacked in the room's only chair.  He vaguely recalled Auron's protests to the innkeeper that the accommodations were unbecoming for a man of Braska's station.  There had been an apologetic response that it was all there was – the in was nearly full.  Fuzzy memories of being stripped of his soaked clothing, given a potion, and cosseted in bed like a child were all that followed.  

"I feel…stupid."

Jecht smiled and chuckled at the comment, but his face held concern.  "You need anything?"

Braska shifted and sat up in bed.  He didn't really feel like getting up, but there was no point in hiding.  "Just a hot shower and something to eat.  Where is Auron?"

"He's off tradin' some of the stuff we found when we killed those lizard things…murussu right?  Said he wanted to restock and get me another ball if he could."  Jecht rubbed the back of his neck and stood.  He stepped over and extended his hand toward Braska.  "Lemme give you a hand getting' up."

Shaking his head, Braska threw his legs over the side of the mattress.  "No, really, I am fine."

"You took a heck of a hit.  Ya sure?"

Braska flashed a smile and waved off the assistance.  "I am not as fragile as Auron seems to think me, but thank you for offering."

"Uh, look.  About Auron."  Jecht shifted and cracked his knuckles in a gesture of obvious discomfort.   "I don't want ya to get mad, but I think he aughta take a turn at watch.  He's right.  I got no idea what I'm doin."

Braska could tell the confession of ineffectiveness made Jecht rankle.  It was clear it cost the man something to admit weakness.  However, Braska felt a surge of quiet pleasure at Jecht's words.  It seemed that a bond was forming in the unlikely trio – one of mutual protection.  "Jecht, I have faith in you.  We will manage."

Surprisingly, Jecht didn't let the subject drop.  "I dunno…"

"Well, I do."  Braska knew now was a time to try and build Jecht's confidence.  The man needed it or he wouldn't retreat to alcohol as an escape.  Jecht was obviously feeling alone and isolated.  Braska wanted to make him feel included in every way possible – to let Jecht know he had a friend.  "Besides, we are not far from Guadosalam.  There will some formalities to observe when we arrive, but they will not last long.  After I present myself to Maester Jyscal, we will be free to rest.  I intend to stay an extra day so I may visit my wife.  By then, Auron should have had enough time to consider his actions and I may lift the restrictions."

Jecht frowned in response.  Something about the conversation seemed out of sync.  It didn't make sense.  "You're wife?  But, you said she's dead."

Braska tilted his head slightly, studying Jecht's reactions with curiosity.  "Yes." 

The furrow on Jecht's brow deepened.  "How can ya visit someone that's dead?"

Blinking in surprise, Braska tried to find a starting point.  "Jecht, do you not have some traditions in Zanarkand regarding your dead?  Do you not visit those you loved to remember them?"

"Well, I guess so.  I mean, there's a buncha things people think about what happens after you die."  An arm went unconsciously to the back of Jecht's neck.  He rubbed at it in an agitated motion.  "I don't believe 'em, but I figure everybody's got a right to do their own thing.  I mean, you die and that's that.  What's the point in pretending or going to see some hole in the ground?"

Braska leaned his weight forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  "Jecht, Rain is dead but what my people believe about death is not simply an idea.  We know that the spirit of a person, their soul, lives on.  We know this because we may visit them in Guadosalam."  

Jecht's eyes went wide and he shuddered.  "You mean dead people live there?!  You're gonna go to some place full of ghosts?!"  The petrified look that flashed across Jecht's face.  It was only moment, but in that instant the dread and fear was plain as day.  

Braska was confused by Jecht's reaction.   It was clear that the man was truly afraid.  The fact that he had shifted his body position, clamped down on his emotions, and crossed his arms defensively across his chest in a haughty look of bravura to cover it up certainly wasn't fooling the Summoner.  "Jecht, it is the Farplane.  The souls are at peace.  They will not attack you or become fiends.  For that matter, they are not able to communicate – they simply appear.  There is nothing to be concerned about."

Jecht's expression said it all.  He thought Braska was out of his mind.  

"If it frightens you, simply to do not go."  Braska purposely used a soothing tone of voice, trying to put Jecht at ease.  "Since I doubt Auron will accompany me, you are welcome to stay behind as well."

"It doesn't **frighten** me."  Jecht rankled at the accusation.  He glared at Braska, suspicious and angry.  "And, why wouldn't Auron go?"

"That is something I think you should ask him, Jecht."  Braska stood and pulled on the robe draped at the foot of the bed.  "I will shower now."

Jecht didn't move, he just stood there staring at Braska.  He kept trying to understand – to make sense of it all – but he just couldn't.  Every time he thought he understood – every time Spira started to make some kind of sense or he found some small thing that seemed to connect where he came from to this hell hole - something happened to show him just how different it was.  Frustrated, he turned his back on Braska moved for the door.  

Braska frowned.  He had managed to upset Jecht and didn't want the conversation to end on such a bad note.  Calling after the retreating blitzer he said, "Jecht.  I really would like for you to go with me.  Perhaps, the Farplane is something one must **see** to truly understand."

Not bothering to turn around, Jecht replied gruffly, "I'll think about it."

-------------------

The trek from the shop to Guadosalam was fairly uneventful; if you want to call intermittent fights with things out of a horror film and dodging lightening strikes normal the way Braska and Auron did.  For Jecht, on the other hand, it was disturbing.

His conversation with Braska played over and over in his head as the tramped through the mud.  When he left the room, he'd gone out to the shop area and tried to talk to Auron.  Braska had said that Auron wouldn't go to this "Farplane" and Jecht wanted to know why.  

Jecht was used to getting what he wanted.

Auron wasn't having any of it and didn't care what Jecht wanted.  All business, the warrior gruffly haggled the shopkeeper down to the last thin copper for the items they required.  Potions, travel rations, and a new ball left the gil sack quite light; even after selling some of the things they had found in the woods.  As a result, Auron was not in the mood for chitchat.  

The exchange started off with a Jecht offering information about Braska – something he felt to be a rather neutral topic.  Instead, this seemed to irritate Auron.  Things went from bad to worse when the young man turned over the new ball and began, immediately, to instruct Jecht "not to loose this one."

Already on edge, it took all Jecht had not to just haul off and hit the pompous monk.  Instead, he jerked the ball out of Auron's hands and stalked outside.  For some unknown reason, Auron didn't follow him.  It was loud and wet outside but, frankly, Jecht could have cared less as long as he didn't have to listen to another condescending word out of Auron's mouth.  

He was so absorbed in thought that he lost track of time.  Sitting on a crate under the shelter of an eave, Jecht just kept thinking about home.  Nothing could be more different from Zanarkand in every way than this place.  There, you didn't have to walk everywhere – you took a boat, or a tram, or a lift, or a scooter, or even a teleport pad.  Everyone knew him.  He couldn't step off his boat without a throng of people crushing against him to beg for his autograph.  Nobody talked down to him or treated him the way Auron did.  If he wanted something, he rarely had to pay.  Star-struck blitz fans were all but too happy to give just about anything to "The Great Jecht."  Home wasn't as nice as it used to be when it was just he and the wife - the kid did nothing but whine these days – but his still missed the boy fiercely.  Surely, given time, the kid would shape up, quit crying, and start showing some promise with a ball.

Lost in reverie, Jecht nearly jumped when Braska came out of the inn and touched him on the shoulder.  The group was quickly underway and before long, they were in their first scuffle.  Fighting got Jecht's mind off of home and what this "Farplane" might be like.  He kept having strange visions of wraithlike beings floating in air – some dark cold dank place full of transparent disembodied specters.  It was the stuff of children's nightmares, but then so were the fiends that kept attacking them.  At this point, Jecht couldn't rule out anything, even things he thought of as fairytales.

The rain slowed to a drizzle as they exited the plains and approached the city of Guadosalam.  At first, Jecht didn't realize they had arrived at their destination.  The ground sloped upward slightly as it neared a wide gap in what looked like a mudslide.  The gap turned out to be a tunnel, the sides and arches of which were supported by strange vine-like veins coated in a glowing green substance.  

Barley a half dozen steps into the tunnel, the group was approached by the strangest person Jecht had ever seen.  Huge pale hands descended from the voluminous sleeves of a formal coat, the nails sharpened into pointy tips.  Thick unruly blue hair sprouted from the man's head in snakelike writhing clumps.  Jecht half expected the stuff to start moving.  The blitzer immediately went on the alert and dropped his new ball into his hand.  If ever something looked like a walking zombie, this was it.

Braska noticed Jecht's reaction and quickly moved to step between the man from Zanarkand and the guado.  It was someone with whom Braska was familiar – Tromell, personal assistant to Maester Jyscal.  He had met the guado once before during an official function at the Bevelle Temple.  

Smiling, Braska bowed and performed the sign of prayer.  "It is good to see you again, Tromell Guado.  I hope that Yevon has smiled his favor upon your and your master since our last meeting."

Tromell returned the sign of prayer.  "Lord Braska, you are welcome in Guadosalam.  Lord Jyscal has been expecting your arrival with great anticipation and has prepared a feast in your honor."  The guado then looked toward Jecht and seemed chagrinned.  "My Lord, forgive me.  We were not aware that you had two guardians.  I am afraid that we do not have accommodations at the manor for them both."

While the guado were a reclusive group that rarely mixed with other races, within their own society hospitality was prized.  For a host to be unable to provide lodging for their guests was an extreme loss of face.  Knowing that Tromell's admission of this deficiency meant great dishonor for Maester Jyscal, Braska did his best to smooth the path.  "That is quite all right, Tromell.  Do not concern yourself or the Maester with my guardians.  They have their own business while in Guadosalam."  Braska shot a quick look toward Auron.  "They had planned to stay at the Inn so as to not be an inconvenience to myself or Lord Jyscal."

"Of course, Lord Braska.  As you say, so shall it be"  The guado looks extraordinarily relieved.  He bowed low.  "Will you accompany me to the manor now, My Lord?"

Braska nodded briskly and then turned to face Auron.  "Auron, I will send a message to you at the Inn when I am ready to depart.  I will see my wife just before we go."

Bowing formally in response, Auron received the directives in silence.  He didn't like being separated from his Summoner and liked the idea of staying at the Inn with Jecht even less.  He knew the Call would be telling Braska exactly how displeased he was and, for once, he was glad of it.  He waited until Braska and Tromell were out of sight before he turned to Jecht.  

"Well, it seems we are stuck with one another.  Follow me."

-----------------------

Braska did not send notice to the Inn for two days.  When the letter arrived, hand delivered by Tromell, it notified Auron that they would leave in the morning after a stop at the Farplane.  It cordially invited both the guardians to attend.

Auron sighed and folded the note, placing it into a small interior pocket of his robe.  He then began to take inventory of the supplies.  He had no idea where Jecht was.  The man had accompanied Auron to the shop the day before and noticed a guado in a uniform looking over regulation blitzballs.  As the warrior haggled the price of a few potions and worked out an exchange for some electromarbles, Jecht had questioned the blitz player.  When Auron had finished the transaction, Jecht was gone.

The situation hadn't really concerned Auron all that much at the time.  If Jecht truly was a blitz player as he purported, and Auron now had little reason to doubt at least that much of the story, then taking off to "talk shop" with another player seemed a logical thing.  Guadosalam was an entirely enclosed city and a rather small one at that.  The fact that Jecht was loose among the guado was of little concern to Auron.  How much trouble could the man get into?  

When Jecht didn't return to the Inn after the hour of the evening meal, Auron began to be concerned.  Folk stories said that the Guado had once been a huge and thriving society with vast cities that spanned over the entire Moonflow.  Now - after centuries of devastation, disaster, and inbreeding - the once-proud race was rumored to be dying out.  Lord Jyscal's conversion and taking a human wife had sent all kinds of tales through the rumor mills of Bevelle.  Auron had, thanks to his close friendship with Kinoc, been privy to many.  If the stories were to be believed, there had been unrest after Jyscal's wife gave birth to the half-breed boy, Seymour.  There were factions among them that opposed Jyscal and resented the intrusion of humans in their city.  Auron started to wonder if he shouldn't go looking for the man from Zanarkand.

After some thought, Auron decided against looking for Jecht.  The hour had grown late and the warrior was convinced the man would return by morning.  Aside from the shop, the Inn, and a small bar and eatery where locals gathered; there were few places in Guadosalam that would welcome a foreigner.  Should Jecht cause trouble, he would be taken to Maester Jyscal's manor and Braska could deal with him.

By the afternoon meal the next day there was still no sign of Jecht.  Though it irritated Auron to no end, he decided to go looking.

It didn't take long to find the man.  In fact, Auron found Jecht on his first stop.  Sitting in the bar, the man was talking in a boisterous and animated fashion with several guado.  Every one of the young men were in blitzball uniforms.  

Advancing across the room, Auron also noticed a rather copious number of bottles littering the small table.  It was quickly apparent that Jecht was drunk, as were his companions.  

A harried and frazzled waitress hurried to Auron's side, bowing.  "Sir, may I help you, Sir?"

"How long has that man been here?"  Auron pointed toward Jecht.

The guado woman curtsied and looked uncomfortable.  "Sir Jecht, Lord Braska's Guardian, has been here…a long time, Sir."

Auron know how to read between the lines.  The poor guado woman had, under rules of hospitality, been unable to request that "Sir Jecht" and his companions leave.  To do so would have been rude and might have slighted a man of high station – a Guardian.  Guardians and Summoners were held in awe, even among the guado, and to do something to displease them was considered the height of indecency; particularly when the Guardian was attending a Journeying Summoner.

"I am the Lord Braska's other Guardian, Sir Auron."  He turned to the guado woman and took several silver gil from his pouch.  Auron was loathe to part with them – the gil pouch was already getting frightfully light thanks to Jecht losing his ball – but common decency required that the barkeep be compensated for Jecht's behavior.  He pressed the gil into the woman's hand.  "Sir Jecht will be leaving now.  Our Summoner will be moving on to Djose Temple with the dawn."

"Yevon bless you and your Summoner on the Journey, Sir Auron." The relief on the woman's face was plain.  She bowed and performed the sign of prayer before scurrying away.  

Jecht had been quite loud in his protests when Auron insisted he return to the inn.  One by one, the small group that surrounded him drifted away and out of the bar.  Out of patience, Auron jerked the man from Zanarkand out of his chair and helped the staggering oaf out of the establishment.  The warrior was unable to pry a half-full bottle of local ale out of Jecht's grasp.

The argument that ensued when they returned to the room wasn't pretty.  Jecht became so incensed at one point that he threw the bottle of ale at Auron.  The man's aim was off thanks to his inebriation and Auron easily dodged the throw.  The green glass shattered in large fragments against the wall of their room; the ale creating a large stain and dripping down onto the hand woven carpet.  At that point, Auron had endured enough.  Knowing that Braska would be highly displeased if he were to hit Jecht, he did the next best thing.  Using a standard third hand control, Auron forced Jecht to ground and then dumped a sleeping potion on him.  Once he was sure the drunkard was asleep, he left to get something to clean up the mess.

-------------------------

"Where is Jecht?"

Auron stood outside the Inn, back straight and a frown on his face.  "He will only be a few minutes.  I apologize for the delay, my Lord."

"Is something wrong?"  Braska's face held look of concern.

"No.  He simply…" Auron hesitated and attempted to find a tactful way to explain.  An honor guard of guado attendants had accompanied Braska to the Inn and to discuss Jecht's escapade in mixed company was unseemly.  "He simply had a headache this morning and found the hour early."

Braska tilted his head slightly to the right and his eyebrows arched upward.  The obvious external queues only compounded the feelings that the Call sent him.  Auron was disgusted and irritated.  It didn't take many guesses for the Summoner to determine the cause.  "Oh.  I see."

Turning, Braska bowed and addressed the four guado that accompanied him.  "I thank you, and your Lord, for the gracious hospitality you have displayed.  Please convey again my appreciation to Maester Jyscal."

The retinue performed the sign of prayer and departed in silence, leaving Braska and Auron alone.  Once the group was far enough away, Braska attempted to elicit more information.  "What happened?"

Auron frowned.  His tone was disdainful.  "He found some members of the local blitz team and _indulged_ himself."

Braska sighed.  "Auron, I understand your concerns.  I, too, am worried about Jecht's behavior.  However, I ask that you try to place yourself in his position.  No doubt, this is terribly difficult for him.  I cannot imagine what it would be like to be ripped away from my family and placed in a foreign land.  He does not know our customs and we do not know his.  Allowances must be made."

The glower Braska's words elicited made it clear that Auron didn't feel much empathy.  He had even less understanding for his Summoner's belief in Jecht's tall tales.  "Why do you continue to believe his ridiculous story?"  

"Auron."  Braska's tone was stern.  "We discussed this back at Macalania.  I have my reasons.  If you do not trust him then I ask that you trust me and my judgment."

The Warrior crossed his arms belligerently over his chest.

Realizing that the discussion was getting them nowhere, Braska decided to change the subject.  "Will you be accompanying me to the Farplane?"

Auron shifted uncomfortably and cast his gaze downward to stare at the ground.  "I will wait for you outside."

Braska slumped slightly in disappointment.  "Auron, will you not reconsider?  I know that you have concerns about…"

"Braska.  I said, no."  The words were clipped and harsh.

"I did not mean to push."  The Summoner was obviously contrite.  

Auron sighed deeply and dropped his arms.  The Call conveyed a feeling of regret.  "I know you mean well.  I simply cannot risk it.  The memories are difficult enough to live with.  Sometimes, the longing becomes so great…"  Auron's voice trailed off as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

Nodding, Braska looked at his friend in sympathy.  Auron had never discussed the training fight with him, but rumors in the temple and some cryptic comments from old Wellak had told the Summoner enough.  He had treated enough men and women over the years – casting full life to rejoin their souls to shattered bodies or administering phoenix down potions to those on the battlefield – to know that the spirit longed for the Farplane ever after.  Given the loved ones Auron had lost, and his own longings, Braska certainly could understand the young man's reticence.  He stepped forward and put a comforting hand to the monk's shoulder.  "You have no need to explain yourself to me, Auron.  I am sorry."

Auron bowed his head; the Call conveying a strange mix of relief and sadness.  "No, Braska, I should be the one to apologize.  I broke a trust and now I continue to question your decisions.  I should show more faith."

Braska was about to reply when Jecht exited the inn; ball under one arm, sword strapped to his back, and a travel pack slung from his shoulder.  Braska noted the bloodshot eyes and haggard look.  The man's hair was damp but the smell of guado ale still clung to Jecht's skin and clothing.  Braska felt Auron stiffen and the Call sent him a feeling that could almost be described as loathing.  Jecht responded by shooting Auron a glare that held unmistakable malice.  Clearly, the time alone that Braska had hoped might foster kinship had done nothing of the sort.

"Jecht, Auron tells me you were feeling a bit under the weather this morning."  Braska shoved the feelings the Call was feeding him out of his mind and smiled pleasantly.  "Is there anything I may do to help?"

The blitzer shook his head in the negative.  "I'm ok."

"Well, in that case I shant dally.  I would like to make the Moonflow crossing before nightfall."  

Braska turned and began to lead the way up a spiraling ramp.  Auron gestured and waited for Jecht to follow before taking up the rear.  Entry doors to private residences and shops lined the walkway.  Jecht frowned as he passed the door of the bar.  "Will you be accompanying me into the Farplane, Jecht?" Braska asked over his shoulder.

Jecht's eyebrows knitted together in a near scowl.  "I dunno."

"Well, Auron will be remaining behind," Braska said in a cheery voice.  "I am sure he would be glad to have you keep him company."

That was all Jecht needed to hear.  He wasn't about to spend any more time alone with Auron.  "Come ta think of it, I suppose I aughta check it out.  Might make somethin' cool to tell the wife and kid.  Can I take a sphere?"

  
  


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
Well, I'm back at it. Though I continue to have little time to write I plod away at this tale. I am determined to get it done. This month will see me open my photography studio in a real office instead of my house. Sadly, that means most of the month of July will be spent setting up the darkroom, painting, and organizing the office spaces. Oh how fun. NOT. However, I promise to spend at least an hour three days a week on this story. My hope is to get another chapter out before the end of July and then to get back on track.  
Now it's back to packing up! *waves*


	15. Guadosalam: Chapter Two, The Farplane

**Braska's Journey  
Guadosalam - Chapter Two - The Farplane**

Auron seated himself on the stairway that led upward and terminated in a portal of shimmering light.  Though he had never been there, he knew what Jecht would see.  Far below the platform, a gloriously vibrant land would stretch out in all directions.  Magnificent waterfalls would cascade from unimaginable heights as a strange blue-white orb hung eternally aloft – it's soft and gentle light illuminating a land of endless peace.

Some nights he dreamed of that place.  He would wake in a cold sweat, his heart aching with a longing that couldn't be fulfilled.  The serene vistas, the warm golden haze, the innate knowledge that he was not alone there – that his loved ones waited just beyond the light to welcome him – would be abruptly cut off.  Thrust back from the dream and into his body as rudely as he had been resurrected all those years ago, it left him feeling cheated.

He wanted so badly to stand up and walk through the barrier – to see his mother, father, uncle, and sister.  He wanted to run inside and pray for a vision of Sam that he might beg for forgiveness.  But more than that, he wanted to join them; to feel the tranquility and let go of all the pain.

And so he stayed still, rooted to the spot he chose on the stairway as though cast in stone.  He had made promises.  He promised Barak to resolve his personal issues and to ensure that Shana was cared for.  He promised Braska to Journey.  He vowed to see Sin eradicated from the face of Spira.  He would not join his loved ones with things undone – he would join them knowing he had completed his tasks.  Only then would he allow himself to again see the beauty he knew lay a few yards away.

-----------------------

A slight figure with a round delicate face and brown hair with sandy golden sunstreaks hovered in the air.  The eyes, bright green with swirled black irises, shimmered and accentuated the soft smile that played on rosy lips.  Braska had dropped to his knees at the figure's appearance; tears coursing down his face unabashedly – a strange contrast to the expression of joy on the Summoner's face.  Jecht could find no single word for it and thought of it often after; the look on Braska's face at that moment.  The Summoner seemed inwardly illuminated, full of some kind of contentment and hope that the blitzer couldn't begin to comprehend.

He had almost stayed behind with Auron.  The long tunnel that lead to the portal had an eerie quality.  Illuminated by the strange glowing veins and shimmering panes of a translucent green, they walked down the narrowing hallway; the ringing of Auron's boot falls against the stone punctuating the utter silence and pounding through Jecht's skull.  The place gave him the creeps.  There was a strange smell – not really musty or unpleasant but cloying and almost rotten.  Thanks to his drinking binge, and the resulting hangover, it was giving his stomach the flips.

There had been no time to change his mind.  Braska strode up the stairs toward the strange gateway and walked right through.  Jecht, had hesitated on the landing – sniffing the air and it's strange saccharine scent – before reaching out a cautious hand to touch the barrier.  It rippled like water, sending multicolored waves of light through the insubstantial structure.  Though it hadn't hurt at all, the thought of what might lie beyond still gave Jecht pause.

In the end, it was Auron that finally motivated him to step through.  The monk had grunted and the sound of metal clacking against stone jolted Jecht from his thoughts.  He had no idea how long Braska might be and the idea of spending time alone with Auron was more than his aching head could stand.  

He walked through. 

Braska was still striding toward the opposite edge of the dais on which Jecht found himself.  When he focused past Braska and into the distance, the vision gave him an extreme case of vertigo.  Golden clouds swirled and parted to reveal the vastness below.  The platform seemed to hang in the air without support.  Soft melodic cries rose upward on the air and the almost sickening-sweet smell from before resolved itself into a burst of clean floral freshness.   Jecht, used to having his perceptions manipulated by attacks in the bliz sphere, did what every young player learns to do right after they master the trick of holding their breath – he shut his eyes and let his body reset itself.

Once he was sure he wouldn't dry heave, he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.  Keeping focused on Braska and the land beneath his feet, he cautiously walked over to join the Summoner.  In a matter of seconds, the apparition had appeared.

"Oh, thank Yevon!"  Braska looked adoringly at the image of his wife, full of relief.  Part of him had been consumed with the fear that he would not see her.  Lost in the attack at sea, there had been no one to send Rain and her shipmates.  For years now, Braska had lived in with the dread that she might not have found her way – that she might have become a fiend.  Now he knew she was safe.  When he gave his life to rid Spira of Sin he could do so knowing that he would join her and never have to part from her again.

Closing his eyes, Braska sighed and composed himself.  Kneeling there, he performed the sign of prayer and gave thanks to his God for his wife's deliverance.  

Jecht shifted uncomfortably as Braska prayed.  He felt like an intruder.  More than ever, he didn't belong.  He didn't belong in this place.  He didn't belong in Spira.  Looking at Braska, then back toward the figure that hovered before them, Jecht frowned and thought again of his wife.  What was she doing?  Where was she?  Where was he?  Would he ever see her again?  Would he ever see his son?  Braska knelt there, so devoted to the memory of this woman.  So, this was the woman Braska had defied his Church for?  Yuna's mother.  She was pretty – fine boned, delicate, and yet strong.

~~_He's right.  Yuna does look like her_.~~

Unable to continue watching Braska in such a private and emotional moment, Jecht stepped away.  He cautiously approached the edge of the platform and gazed downward.  He had to admit, if there was a place he could call heaven, this would be it.

With the exception of a strange dark smoke that rose upward and shrouded the odd blue-white "sun," the place was idyllic.  The floral smell obviously came form the huge fields far below the platform.  The vibrant blues, reds, purples, greens, and golds that undulated along the ground below could only be flowers.  Odd keening cries filled the air - the same as those that escaped when a fiend was killed.  Multicolored lights of pyreflies chased one another across the rainbow landscape as if in play. 

Fascinated, Jecht took a step closer to the edge.  Then another.

"Jecht!"

Braska's hand clasped Jecht's arm, jerking him backward and jolting him out of his daze.  It was only then that he realized that he nearly walked right off the platform. 

"Be careful," the Summoner admonished.  "I can perform many feats of magic, but I cannot retrieve you if you fall."

"Braska."  Jecht looked at the Summoner, his brow furrowed in an expression of distress.  His voice was almost pleading.  "Why am I here?"

"I am sorry, Jecht."  The look of guilt on Braska's face was plain.  "I think you are here because of me."

"What?"  Jecht blinked in confusion.  "Whaddya mean, 'because of you?'"

Braska turned and maneuvered Jecht farther away from the precipice.  Standing in the middle of the dais, Jecht suddenly realized that they weren't the only ones there.  Just to the left of the entry, an old guado couple stood before an image of a young guado male.  The woman, shoulders shaking, was being comforted by what Jecht assumed was her husband.  To the right of the entry, a human woman in plate mail and a helm stood silent and erect before the image of a young man in similar garb.  Several other groups of people were gathered at various places on the platform communing with silent specters of their loved ones.  Jecht wondered why he hadn't noticed them until now.

Sighing, the Summoner moved close to Jecht.  He kept his voice low, partially out of respect to those that were visiting and partially because of what he was about to say. 

"It is hard to explain, Jecht.  Even if you had lived in Spira all you life, you might find what I'm about to tell you…strange at best.  I was accepted to study in Bevelle as an Apprentice Summoner when I was quite young.  But, for many rather complex reasons, I instead followed my heart and went to live with the Al Bhed.  After I married Rain, the temple wanted nothing more to do with me.  I, frankly, did not care.  I loved my wife; she was my world – my everything.  When Yuna arrived, so small and fragile, I couldn't imagine anything more beautiful or amazing.  We had to struggle to get by – having been defrocked, I no longer drew a stipend from the Church and my marriage to an Al Bhed meant that many people refused my healing services – but it didn't matter to us.  We had each other and, if sometimes we had only potatoes and the things we managed to grow in our garden to eat, then we gave thanks for our blessings and didn't complain.  Oh Yevon, it was hard for us but we were so happy together."

Tears shimmered again in Braska's eyes as he continued on.  His voice was laden with emotion. "When Rain died, I went to the Temple priests and begged to be allowed to return.  I threw myself at the mercy of Maester Mika and pleaded to be accepted as an Apprentice.  I vowed I would not fail – that never had any man or woman in Spira wanted a thing as badly as I wanted to destroy Sin.  At first, I said it out of grief. Later, I said it out of anger and rage.  By the time I was allowed to return to the temple though, I no longer wished to eradicate Sin out of a sense of vengeance or retribution.  I came to my calling with an open heart."  Braska's face took on the strange glowing look Jecht had seen when he gazed upon the vision of his wife.  The man radiated it as though it were some kind of tangible power.  There was something mesmerizing about Braska – something that drew Jecht in the same way that the vision of the flower fields far below had.  "I want only to free Spira from bondage, Jecht.  I have no other wish - to give Yuna, and every other child, a life free of fear.  I look at her and I see Rain.  I think to myself; if I had come to the Temple in my youth, become a Summoner and defeated that monster, how many might still be alive?  How many of these people here," Braska swept his arms around to encompass all the people there on the platform, "these grieving parents, the lonely woman, the children over there with their crying mother – how many of them would still have their loved ones if I had chosen differently?  How many more must die until someone says, 'No more?'"

Jecht frowned.  "Braska, I don't understand.  What the hell has that got to do with me?"

"Only four people in one thousand years have defeated Sin, Jecht.  Four.  I knew it was a tremendous vanity for me to think that I could do it, that I might be the one to save Spira and bring the Calm.  When I became an Apprentice, I prayed every day and every night to Yevon.  I told him everything that was in my heart.  I prayed, not only for strength and guidance, but also for a sign – for divine assistance.  I begged my God to help me so that I could help the people in his name."

Braska's voice took on a soft and reverent tone.  He looked intently at Jecht and reached out to him, placing strong hands on the blitzer's shoulders.  "When I went into the Chamber of the Fayth in Bevelle, the Prayer Child appeared to me.  He told me that my voice was strong and that my prayers had been heard.  He said that the Fayth had sent a man to help me, someone to assist me in my task.  He said that if I took this man with me and held true, that I would not fail.  I would gain the Final Aeon and defeat Sin."

Jecht just stood there, blinking.

"When I came out of the Trials with Auron, Wen Kinoc was there.  He said there was a man in the locks – a man from Zanarkand – and I knew.  In that instant, I knew.  Yevon sent you here as an answer to my prayers."

"Braska, this is nuts."  Jecht shook his head.  "I never heard of Yevon.  I never heard of Spira.  And why would your God pick me anyway?  I'm just a blitzball player!"

The final sentence practically ripped out of Jecht's throat.  The other people on the dais turned to stare at the Summoner and Guardian.  Jecht jerked Braska's hands away and shouted at him, "I don't believe in this shit!  I don't care about Spira and I don't give a damn about Sin!"

Chagrined, Braska tried to calm Jecht.  "Jecht, please.  Don't say those things.  You're drawing attention to yourself."

"I don't care!"  Jecht shoved Braska away.  "I didn't ask for this!  I don't want this!  Find somebody else!  Send me back!"

The Summoner seemed truly sorry when he replied, "Jecht, I do not know how."

Whirling, Jecht moved for the gateway.  He wanted out of the place and away from Braska.  He wanted to go home.  All this talk about gods and spirits – these people seeing visions of dead loved ones all around him – it was crazy. 

~~_I've gone insane._~~

It was one thing to play along, to follow Braska and Auron as a means to an end.  It was something else to be told you were literally the answer to someone's prayers.  That you were being depended on to save an entire world.  He felt like he'd been sacked in a blitz sphere – the hollow sick sensation that started just south of the solar plexus and the dizzying disorientation that came from having your world turned upside down.  He bolted through the gateway and charged down the stairs, sweeping past Auron and refusing to acknowledge the warrior's presence when his name was shouted.  Jecht had no idea where he was headed and he didn't care.  He just had to get away.

His rapid steps took him back the way he had come – through the hallway and out into the city.  In no time, he was standing in front of the bar.  He stared at the door.  There was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to drown himself in alcohol; to forget everything and allow the haze of inebriation to sweep through is mind and block out memory.  

But what then?  What would happen when the buzz wore off?

Back in Zanarkand, taking off for an evening of drinks with the boys would sometimes turn into lost days.  He would wake up in a room somewhere, unsure how long he'd been gone.  He wouldn't remember where he'd been, what he'd done, or whom he had been with.  Of course, it wasn't hard to piece together afterward – the paparazzo made sure of that.  He'd skulk back to the houseboat to face the music, flowers or jewelry box in hand for the wife that was sure to be unhappy.  He'd picked up gifts for the boy too, but Tidus got angry after a while and refused them.  When the kid threw a perfectly good portable console equipped with the latest version of BlitzAce - featuring the Sublimely Magnificent Jecht Shot Mark III - over the side of the boat and then shouted that he didn't want Jecht's crummy gifts, it brought a swift halt to Jecht's trips to the toy store.  

What was there for him here?  He couldn't go back the way he came – not by himself.  For that matter he couldn't even leave this creepy cave city.  If traveling with Auron and Braska had taught him nothing else, it was that Spira was a dangerous place and that going out on your own wasn't smart.  He didn't even know what direction to walk anyway.  Every time he tried to ask someone about Zanarkand, they shook their head sadly and treated him like an invalid or acted like he was out of his mind.  

He went into the bar.

There was little gil left in the small pouch that Braska had given him back in Bevelle, but it was enough.  He quickly downed a couple of bottles as he considered the options.  Soon, he would have no money.  If his family and life existed at all, it was far away; far beyond his ability to reach alone.  The guado he'd talked to said that Zanarkand was a smoking ruin – destroyed in a war almost a thousand years ago – and that the only people that went there were Summoners searching for the Fayth of the Final Summoning.  When someone back in Bevelle had told him that, he thought they'd been yanking his chain.  No longer.  Now, after everything he'd seen, it was starting to make sense.  He had intended to talk to Braska about it – asking Auron anything was out of the question – when the Summoner had started his spiritual mumbo jumbo.  Jecht didn't go in for that sort of thing.  It bothered him – the idea that there was a God that kept track of all the wrong he'd ever done and might make him pay for his mistakes.  Heaven and hell, angels and ghosts, demons and saints; Jecht figured they were just things people made up to help them get through life.  He could understand that.  Before he'd found blitz, his life had been far from easy.  When he was a kid on the streets he'd prayed to an imaginary deity more than once to save him when the nights were cold, dark, and full of unfriendly people that thought he looked like an easy mark.  There had never been an answer to **his** prayers.

Jecht ordered another ale.

It didn't take long for the alcohol to do its job.  The pounding headache and sick falling feeling in his gut were fading away; replaced by comforting warmth of the blood and cocky self-assurance.  The blitz players had said all the tournaments were held in some town called Luca.  Jecht started to make a plan.  People welcomed Braska and as his Guardian, they welcomed Jecht.

~~_I stick with Braska til Luca.  If I don't get answers; I find a scout.~~_

Jecht ordered a final bottle for the road and left another silver gil on the table for the waitress.  Then he left to find Braska.  One way or another, he was going home.

----------------------

"I am sorry.  He had a brush with Sin recently and the toxin still affects him."

Braska offered up the explanation aloud to quell the curiosity of the people in the Farplane before dashing off after Jecht.  The few moments it had taken to speak the words were enough.  By the time Braska exited through the barrier, Jecht was long gone.  Auron was standing at the ready, a look of curiosity on his face.

"What happened?"

Braska hadn't told Auron about the conversation with the Prayer Child.  He wasn't quite sure why.  Though there had been no admonishment to keep the discussion to himself, Braska still felt it was meant for his ears alone.  At the Macalania Inn, when Auron had insisted in no uncertain terms that Jecht be left behind, Braska had almost said something.  It would have made the situation so much easier if he had.  Auron didn't understand why Jecht was so important – why Braska insisted that the man must come with them no matter what – and it was causing a strain on their friendship.  The distance that had risen up between them was painful.  Now, once again, a moment had arrived when telling Auron might smooth the path.  For a brief moment, Braska considered it and then set the thought aside.  

**_I went into the Chamber alone.  What passed there is between myself and God.**_

"I said something that upset him," Braska said simply.  

"That much is plain, Braska."  Auron frowned.  The Call was sending him a muddle of confusing emotions.  It was clear Braska felt guilt for something, but the Summoner wasn't saying what.  Auron was unsure if it was due to Jecht's behavior or because Braska was unwilling to discuss the matter.  "Did you tell him about the Final Aeon?"

"No.  Not yet."  Braska's words were distant and preoccupied.  He turned his head, anxiously looking down the hallway.  "I need to find him.  I must apologize."

Auron wouldn't let up.  "Lord, forgive me, but I must say this.  The man is unstable.  If he has left in this way, is it not best to simply let him go?  I will admit he has had some value as a fighter.  I will even grant that his tale of being a blitz player must have some basis.  But his insistence that he is from the Holy City and his absurd assertions about a place filled with blasphemous machina is heresy!  Braska, your own history and my status already casts a pall on your Pilgrimage.  This man's behavior, and his status as your Guardian, could bar you from the Temples.  The Church would like nothing better than to see you fail – to have you die and use your life as an example of what happens to those that challenge the Teachings."

Sighing, Braska shook his head slowly.  "Auron, I know that what you say sounds logical.  I understand that you want only to protect me – not simply because you are my Guardian but because you are my friend.  But Jecht is my responsibility now.  As you guard me, I must guard him.  Though you do not understand why, I ask that you accept my decision - that you help me, as your friend, in this task."

The warrior crossed his arms over his chest.  "If you order me, I will do so.  I am your Guardian and you are my Summoner.  But as your friend, I tell you now," Auron's left arm shot out and pointed down the now vacant hallway that Jecht had recently run down, "that man is nothing but trouble and I do not approve."

Braska's response was sad.  "Then I order you."

He turned without another word and started down the hallway.  Auron stood there, watching as the figure of his friend got smaller and smaller, his heart heavy.

//_For both our sakes, Braska, I pray I am wrong._//

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


	16. The Moonflow: Chapter One, Vows

**Notes:** Dialogue of the "sphere recording" is lifted from the FFX US release.  Minor changes were made.  Because of the formality of my Auron characterization, I switched a couple of words from contractions to full words.  Other than that, it's verbatim.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

**Braska's Journey  
The Moonflow – Chapter One - Vows **

The sun beat down through a cloudless sky.  The still blue water of the Moonflow acted like a mirror, reflecting the light and intensifying its rays.  In other circumstances, it might have been a lovely crossing.  However, these were not other circumstances.

Auron was seething with checked rage.  Every time his temper threatened to get the better of him, he put more energy into his task.  That task was rowing.

For two hours now Auron had been rowing.  Before that, he had been sitting on Jecht to stop the drunken idiot from attacking a defenseless shoopuf.  The blitzer, full of himself and alcohol, had insisted on using his sword to fight fiends as they traveled the road from Guadosalam.  He had generally made a fool of himself, flailing the red and silver hooked blade at everything that appeared in the path and doing little or no damage in the process.  It was sheer luck that the trio managed to get to the launch at all.

When they reached the Moonflow and Jecht saw the shoopuf walking toward the loading dock, he launched into action.  Sword out, he leapt at the poor beast - startling both it and the driver.  When the incident drew to a close, animal had two huge gashes in its right rear leg, the lift had been crushed, and several bystanders were injured.  In spite of Braska's healing spells, the beast would still require at least a week of recovery time.  Not only had Braska depleting his magical energy healing the animal and the injured people but he used his only sleeping potion to stop Jecht's struggles before giving the shoopuf handler every last gil he had in reparation.  The episode left them next to penniless and stranded them on the wrong side of the water – along with a couple dozen other travelers; all of whom were quite vocal in their displeasure.  A couple of young men muttered something about "teaching that jerk a lesson" and neither Braska nor Auron thought it prudent to wait around.  

Auron left Braska and Jecht at the launch and went in search of another form of transport.  His venture turned up a rickety fishing boat once capable of seating four half submerged in water near a small footbridge.  As Jecht slept on, Auron and Braska flipped the vessel upside down and used some of the silica mud along the shoreline to patch the leaks in the hull. Once the exterior of the boat was completely covered in muck, Braska cast a low-level fire spell to heat the stuff, creating a glasslike coating.  A test float of the boat found only a few small leaks remaining.  Braska then assisted Auron in loading Jecht and their packs into the small craft.  It was well past noon when they set off for the opposite shore.

Only able to find one oar, Auron sat on the frontmost bench and rowed.  The mindless monotony of the task left plenty of time for him to think about other things.  Things like Jecht and how irresponsible, reckless, thoughtless, selfish, and useless the blitzer was. 

_//The man is nothing more than trouble on two legs!  Two strokes right, switch sides. If I "accidentally" strike Jecht while attacking a fiend, will Braska know?  Two strokes left, switch sides.  Two strokes right, switch sides.  Of course he will know.  Two strokes left, switch sides.//_

"Auron?"

"Yes, Braska."

"Would you like me to row for a while?"  Braska had asked this question several times in the last two hours.  Auron noted that the Summoner did so when he seemed the most irritated.  He surmised that the Call was telling Braska exactly how angry he was and that his friend was attempting to play mediator.

The response was curt.  "No."

Auron had not said a word about Jecht's behavior.  It was pointless to do so.  Braska was not going to listen to his advice regarding Jecht so, instead, he simply seethed and put his back into rowing.

The day was unseasonably warm for the time of year.  Auron had long since abandoned the top of his robe and left it to hang from his weapons belt.  The hot sun practically cooked him – trapped as he was inside the heavy boiled leather of his breastplate - as he propelled the craft over the water toward the opposite shore.  Sweat trickled slowly down his back causing an irritating need to scratch.

He wanted nothing more than the day to come to a swift end.

------------------------

Jecht's body refused to allow the potion to work any longer.  The large amount of ale he'd had wasn't sitting well and the situation was compounded by the fact that the sun was frying him.  Auron's tackle had sent him careening into a tent support before he had been pinned to the dusty ground.  The result wasn't pretty no matter how you viewed it.

He groaned and shifted.  The left side of his face was wet.  When he lifted his aching head slightly and opened his eyes, he found the source; a puddle water leaking inside the bottom of a boat.

"Jecht?"

Braska's voice pounded in his head.  The swaying motion of the boat increased.

"Yeah."

The dark red of the bottom row of petals on Braska's robe moved closer to Jecht's nose.  A boot tip peeked out from under the fabric.

"Are you all right?"

The boat lurched.  Jecht groaned and his stomach flipped.

"No.  I think I'm gonna be sick."

It took less than four seconds for Jecht to heave.  He hardly had time to hang his head over the side of the small craft.  Retching up the contents of his stomach – which was precious little aside from alcohol – Jecht felt like he might die.  Part of him wished he would.  He could remember more than usual about how stupid he'd been.  He clearly recalled flailing his sword around and making an ass of himself.  There were vivid memories of Auron's frowning face as he held the weapon like a bat and swatted playfully at the wasps.  

Then there was that shoopuf.

"Braska," Jecht mumbled between heaves, "I'm sorry."

Braska sighed and shifted slightly on his bench.  A comforting hand reached out and patted Jecht lightly on his sunburned back.  

"I know."

-----------

After Jecht vomited the contents of his stomach into the Moonflow, he promptly passed out.  Auron was, quite frankly, thankful.  Between the sound of the man's retching and the effusive apologies, Auron thought his own stomach might turn.

Upon reaching the opposite shore Auron hopped out of the craft, wading in the water up to his knees, and drug it up on the bank.  Braska handed the packs over the side.  Finally, when there was nothing left in the boat but Jecht, Auron unceremoniously flipped thing over – depositing the man in a sodden clump of moon lilies and long grass.  

Jecht let out little more than a grunt and slept on.

"Auron, do you have to be so unkind to the man?"

Auron ignored Braska's admonishment and returned to the boat.  "I will take the boat down to the other launch area.  I am sure there are plenty of stranded people there as well."

Braska frowned.  "At some point we are going to have to discuss this."

Auron was already knee deep in water and pulling the craft along behind him.  He finally lost his temper.  "Then take it up with him!  I should think the solution to be quite simple.  Leave him at a temple or insist he stop drinking!"

Braska settled next to the packs and sighed.  Rubbing his face with his hands, he tried to chase away the headache that had developed since leaving the opposite shore.  The pain in his head was a direct result of continuing to remain awake when his body required rest.  He had overextended himself and no longer had any ether or stim tablets to give him a boost.  What he needed was a full night of rest – one he was not likely to get now that they had spent half the day crossing the water.  It was still a long way to Djose temple.  If they pushed through the night they might make it by morning, but Braska knew he was far too tired to attempt such a thing.

A hand moved absently to a pack and fished within.  Several items were pulled from the bag before Braska found what he sought.  The skin of a green apple snapped between his teeth while he stared at Jecht's sleeping form.

_**Auron is right.  I have to do something.**_

The question was how to talk to Jecht.   The man was clearly miserable and Braska's heart went out to him.  

_**Would I be so different in his place?_  _Would Auron?**_

Braska considered the incident with the shoopuf to be at least partly his fault.  Jecht had been confronted with plenty of dangerous creatures since coming to Spira.  How could the man have known the thing was harmless?  As he nibbled at the apple, Braska admonished himself for spending so little time with Jecht in Guadosalam – for upsetting him and for not explaining that the shoopuf was a means of transport.  If they had stayed another night instead of moving on after going to the Farplane the entire situation might have been avoided.

Finished with his snack, Braska abandoned the apple core to the tall grass.  He looked, one final time, through Auron's travel pack in hope of finding something he might take for his headache and came up wanting.  He stood up and walked down toward the waterline.

The sun was nearly set and the pyreflies would soon be out in force.  It had been many years since Braska had traveled here in the company of his parents – picking moonberries and hunting for mushrooms – but in some ways it felt like yesterday.  A pang of sorrow filled his heart and he wondered where their Journey had ended.  

**_How many Aeons did mother gather before she died?  Was father with her at the end?**_

The crunch of boots on gravel announced Auron's return.   The warrior walked over to the packs and sullenly began stuffing the items Braska removed back in the bag.  "I suggest we pack up and get as far as we can before full dark.  When the next group of people arrives from the other shore, they are sure to mention that Jecht is the reason the shoopuf is injured."

"I was hoping to stay a little while longer – to watch the pyreflies," Braska said wistfully.  "It's been so many years."

Auron looked over at his friend standing by the water.  Braska's gaze was focused off into the distance.  Even if the Call had not made it clear how tired and sad he was, Auron would have known.  The set of Braska's shoulders was enough of a giveaway.  

The sunset gave way to dim twilight and the keening lights began to gather on the water, casting their unearthly glow.  Auron absently hefted a recording sphere in his hand.  It was among the many items that had been taken from the bag.  When he glanced down at it, he noticed the small ready light was glowing.  On impulse, he lifted it slightly and then turned it to the right to capture Braska looking out over the Moonflow.  

In moments like this, when he would watch his friend in silent contemplation, Auron always felt a strange sense of awe.  There was something so different about Braska – regal and kind.  It had been there that first night on the Highbridge when Auron had found the man in the company of Al Bhed all those years ago.  There was an almost magnetic quality about Braska's personality – a thing that Auron simply couldn't describe in words.  He was often reminded of the Maester Umaro in those moments.  His mind flashed back to the day of his mother's sending and the vision of Umaro spinning gracefully on a tower of water as the sun fell into Bevelle harbor.  He had had that same feeling then.

Jecht grunted and moved.

The spell lifted.  Auron turned to look at the man lying in the grass and frowned.  The sphere moved with him.  He abruptly switched the thing off.

"He will be awake soon."  Braska spoke without turning.

Auron walked over and stood close to Jecht.  He could feel his anger welling as he looked at the man.  But, as he stood there looking, he also felt something he never had before.  He felt pity.  He turned the sphere back on.  

Jecht's eyes opened.  "What are you shooting me for?"  

"So you do not do anything stupid again."  Auron didn't try to hide his irritation.  "I cannot believe you attacked that shoopuf.  Lord Braska had to pay the handler for damages from his own travel money!"

"I said I was sorry." Jecht continued to lie on the damp ground.  He looked like hell.  "It's never gonna happen again.  I promise."

"Oh.  A Promise?"  Auron couldn't help his sarcasm.  He'd heard Jecht apologize to Braska before and it certainly hadn't stopped the man from getting drunk again the next day.  "One which you will forget come tomorrow."

"Auron, please.  He did apologize."  Braska tried to put a stop to the conversation before it got out of hand.  The last thing he needed now was his Guardians to fight.  "He knows he was wrong."

Jecht scowled and jumped to his feet.  "That's it.  The only thing I drink from now on is shoopuf milk!"

Auron couldn't believe what he was hearing.  He was about to say so when Braska spoke up.  Surprised, both Auron and the sphere moved.

"We're on a Journey to fight Sin and save Spira, right?"  Jecht planted his feet firmly apart in an effort to keep the world from spinning.  "If I keep screwin' up and makin' a fool of myself…my wife and kid are never gonna forgive me."

Jecht's final words were full of remorse and self-recrimination.  Once again, someone else was paying for his mistakes.  In Zanarkand it had been his wife and son.  Now it was Braska.  Bowing his head, he shut his eyes against the tears he felt welling.  There was no way he was going to let Auron see him cry.  

~~_All the trouble I cause.  Why does he keep me around?  If it had been me, I'd have left me in a cell to rot_.~~

Auron fumbled awkwardly at the sphere, unsure what to do.  The Call fed him a flood of satisfaction from Braska – a feeling of pride.  He could see the shame on Jecht's face and realized how truly contrite the man was.  The whole situation felt wrong now.

"That's on the record."  Auron said it as though the fact he'd recorded the moment made a difference, but he knew that it didn't.  Though he didn't know if he trusted the word of a lying drunk, he knew a vow when he heard one.

He shut off the sphere.

Jecht dug in his pocket and extended his hand.  A silver, a brass, and a few coppers comprised the lot.  The expression on his face was earnest.  "I still got a few of those coins left.  It ain't much, Braska, but here."  

Braska smiled softly.  "No, Jecht.  You keep it.  I gave it to you to do with as you wished."

"If you truly want to be of help, Jecht, you would use those coins to get an ether," Auron interjected.

"Auron, really.  I am fine.  All I need is some rest."

"Ok.  One ether, commin' right up!"  Jecht went over and picked up two of the packs, grateful to have the distraction of a purpose.  He started back toward the launch area and then stopped.  "Uh, Auron.  How much should I pay?  I mean, you always talk people down and I…"

Auron picked up the other pack.  "We will go together.  There is a man named O'aka.  His daughter was a Summoner and he sometimes gives discounts."

Braska followed along behind.

-----------------

After haggling with O'aka, the group started down the road.  Little more than a well-worn footpath, it wound its way through lush green forests, rolling hills of long grass, and small clusters of farm fields.  The south bank of the Moonflow was the breadbasket of the Djose continent and produced more than seventy percent of the agricultural production in Spira.  As a result, Monks and Crusaders stationed at the Djose Garrison always heavily patrolled the South Bank road to ensure the safety of the farmers, their crops, and their livestock.  Auron, commander of that garrison for almost two years, was confident they would encounter little trouble.

They camped close to the road.  Auron picked a location often used by the troops.  He built a fire in the ring of stones and made sure to hail and greet the patrols that passed.   Many of them knew Auron from his days at the garrison and were excited to see him.

Braska used the light from the fire to his advantage.  Picking around in the trees and long grass near the campsite he returned with mushrooms, tubers, and a few herbs.  Added to rice and water in a pot they soon became soup.  While Jecht had eaten less rustic fare, there was something comforting about the broth.  When asked about it, Braska smiled and said that he'd added a few "special" ingredients he knew would sooth an upset stomach.

It wasn't long before Auron brought up watch.  Braska insisted on taking first shift and it elicited a frown from the warrior.  

"Lord, you should take the ether and rest.  I can manage."

"I would rather take first watch, Auron.  You are tired from rowing and, if I take the ether now, I may not wake for a later shift.  This way, you and Jecht may rest and I will be able to sleep uninterrupted."

Jecht wondered for a moment if it would turn into another argument, but Auron simply nodded his agreement and moved to the far side of the fire.  In a matter of moments, he was covered in his blanket and settling down to sleep.

"Braska, I'm not really that tired.  My head doesn't feel so great, but I did sleep most of the day."  Jecht sounded apologetic.  "How about I take second watch?  Let Auron sleep."

"I am sure he will appreciate that."  Braska refilled his bowl, put a lid back on the remains of the soup, and placed the pot back on the hot coals.

The blitzer frowned slightly.  He felt a need to talk but wasn't sure where to start.  He could count on two hands the number of times he'd ever really apologized to someone when he was sober.  If you only counted the times he'd really meant what he said, you could have used only one.  Jecht just wasn't that kind of guy.  He wasn't one of those people that made a lot of promises or knew the right things to say.  Sure, he could fast talk himself out of a jam, into a woman's bed, or trash talk the opposing team with the best of them but when it came to really expressing honest emotion, Jecht was rather at a loss.

He fished around in his pack, needing something to do with his hands.  When nervous, or bored, he fidgeted – and right now he was nervous.  As he went through the pack, his frown deepened a bit.  "Hey, Braska, I'm missin' a couple of spheres."

"Oh?  Perhaps they are in one of the other packs." Braska took another sip from the small lacquer bowl in his hands.  "We will look for them once we get to the temple."

Jecht stuffed items in and out of the small travel bag.   Finally, he spoke.  "Look, Braska, I really am sorry.  I didn't know…"

"Jecht, please.  I accept your apologies but consider the fault my own.  You certainly cannot be held entirely responsible for the situation.  It is likely my fault that you are here and not home with your family.  I upset you.  I should have noticed your…state before we left Guadosalam.  I should have told you about the shoopuf."  Braska sighed deeply.  "I cannot imagine how I would feel if our situations were reversed and I certainly do not blame you for your reaction."

Shaking his head, Jecht looked down at the bag in his lap.  "I'm not gonna say I understand all this Yevon stuff.  But I gotta tell ya, Braska, your God wouldn't pick somebody like me."

"Why do you say that?"  Braska leaned forward slightly.

"I'm no hero.  I'm just a blitz player.  Sure, they call me the greatest to ever play the game – and I'm not gonna say I'm not.  I am.  But that's about all I'm good for.  My wife, I don't know how she puts up with me.  My kid hates me…"

"Oh Jecht, surely you exaggerate."

"Tidus hates me.  Can't say I blame him.  I'm never home.  When I am his mom and I are either fighting or making up."  Jecht shrugged.  "Fact is that things haven't been going so well with my game either.  It's been years since I had a really great season."

"Well, I understand that happens in the sport.  While I haven't played in years, I still follow my favorite team.  Injuries and changes on the roster have an effect on everyone…"

Jecht rubbed at the back of his neck, searching for words.  "I'm trying to say that this drinkin' thing – it's nothing new."

"Oh."

"I got a problem, Braska.  Even my kid knows I got a problem.  The press says I'm washed up, that I aughta retire.  I'm just a drunk and past my prime.  My coach would probably bench me if I didn't own the team."

Braska wasn't quite sure what to say.   "Jecht, you don't have to explain yourself to me."

"Yes I do."  Jecht looked up across the fire.  "I may not know much about this place, but I can tell you went out on a limb for me.  If the funny looks you get when you introduce me aren't enough," he pointed a finger at Auron's sleeping back, "then the look on his face says it all."

"Auron is simply protective of me, that is all."

"Well, he should be. He's right.  I'm a no good drunk."  

Jecht fell quiet.  Braska put down his soup bowl and folded his hands together in his lap, thinking.  The fire popped and crackled, its flames casting a strange reddish glow that made the blitzer's eyes seem sunken and haunted.

"I meant what I said, Braska.  I don't wanna drink anymore.  It's not just the shoopuf – it's a lot of things.   I saw how Yuna looked at you.  Proud.  I want Tidus to look at me like that.  I want him to know his old man is worth somethin' – that I did somethin' more with my life than drink and showboat and kick a ball.  Will you help me?"

Braska stood up and moved around the fire.  He stood in front of Jecht, looking down on the man.  Jecht's face was lit with earnest intent.  "We all need a little help sometimes, Jecht.  It takes a wise man to admit it."  He extended his right hand down and smiled softly.  "We will help one another.  You will help me to obtain the Final Aeon and I will help you to get home to your son."

Jecht reached up and clasped Braska's hand in his own.  He flashed a grin.  "I dunno if that's a fair trade.  Seems to me you'd be a richer man without me along.  Auron sure would be happier."

"I suppose."  Braska chuckled.  "But I think I am right about you, Jecht.  I think you are exactly the sort of man my God would send."  

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


	17. Djose: Chapter One, Homecoming

**Notes:** For those that did not read Legendary Guardian, the Precepts of the Order of Warrior Monks are inspired by several ancient Asian texts. 

**Sifu**: Cantonese word meaning "teacher" and applied to one that teaches martial arts. An equivelant to "sensei" in Japanese.  
**Saru:**Means "monkey" in Japanese. However, the meaning is only implied for the little critters at Djose Temple. The Ultamania guides in Japanese use katakana to give them this name instead of the kanji so it isn't meant to be directly translated.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

Braska's Journey  
Djose - Chapter One - Homecoming

The trek to Djose Temple was relatively uneventful.  After a light breakfast, the trio broke camp and started down the road.  Auron took point and said little.  Jecht, still aching and stiff from the previous day's events, was uncharacteristically quiet as well.  Braska followed in the rear.

Skirmishes with fiends brought little problem.  Garms and bite bugs swiftly went down to Jecht's ball.  Auron made quick work of bunyips.  Funguar, snow flans and gandarewa all were on the receiving end of Braska's spells.  Only once did they encounter much trouble.  Not far from the temple an ochu in the company of a garm and a bite bug blocked their path.  Braska felt reduction of numbers was the best option.  Jecht took care of the bug in a single throw and Braska's cast of thundara made sure the garm was in no position to attack.  

Auron focused his attention on the ochu.  His first strike left a nasty gash in the body of the thing but did little to stop it.  The overgrown hulk of a plant whipped the long vines it used as arms forward in a strike.  Jecht jumped backward and avoided the poisonous snapping pinchers just in time.  

"We have to keep it from dancing!" Auron shouted.

"I'm going to call Shiva."  Braska stepped forward.  "We cannot risk it."

"Are you sure?"  Auron set up for another strike.  

Braska nodded quickly "Jecht's ball will be of no help.  You know that.  Ochu are immune to darkness spells."

Jecht finished off the smoking garm as Braska began his summon.  Closing his eyes, he spun the staff and then extended it above his head.  A cold gust of wind blew in from above as he separated his arms and swung the staff toward the ground.  

Auron grabbed Jecht and jerked him out of the way just in time.  Huge chunks of ice slammed into the ground behind the Summoner as the translucent form of a woman drifted down from the sky.  Reflected in the prisms of the ice, Shiva took form.   

Braska moved to the side as the Aeon broke free of its icy cage.  Shiva tossed her cloak aside and looked toward the ochu with an expression of near amusement.

"Lady, I humbly ask for your assistance."  Braska bowed toward the Aeon and retrieved the discarded cloak.

It took the woman little time to defeat the mutant plant.  She easily avoided the snapping pinchers, darting inside the thing's defenses with graceful spinning kicks.  As the ochu began to wilt, its power draining away, Shiva smirked.  She raised her arm and with a disdainful gesture dropped a huge hunk of ice on the thing.  It dissipated into nothingness.  She tossed her long blue hair in satisfaction.

After a few grateful words of thanks, Braska dismissed Shiva.  He turned to his Guardians, eager to be on his way.  The temple was close now and he had high hopes that he might see old friends.

Auron quickly resumed point and started down the path but Jecht continued to stand there.  He stared at Braska, a look of question on his face.

"Are you all right, Jecht?"

"That looked like a person."

Auron stopped at the sound of voices and turned to look.  He watched as Jecht took an angry step forward.

"Yes.  Shiva enjoys her form as an Aeon.  I often think she wears almost nothing to taunt men with her beauty.  I know that I have been enamored of her since the first time I saw my mother summon her years ago."

"Are you telling me those things you call – that monster you call Bahamut – that it used to be HUMAN?"

Braska blinked.  "Of course, Jecht.  A Fayth is a spirit – a human spirit that gave its soul to become a protector."

For a moment, Auron thought Jecht might hit Braska.  He could see the man clench his fists – the tenseness of bunched shoulder muscles at the ready.  Auron took two steps closer and slid his sword free of the scabbard.  Jecht might be Braska's Guardian now, but he was not going to allow the man to harm Braska no matter what order the Summoner had given.

"Jecht, I can see that this disturbs you.  But, I assure you; I could not summon these spirits if they were unwilling.  If I did not have their permission – if they did not WANT to join me in my fight – I would never leave the Chamber of the Fayth alive."

Jecht seemed to relax slightly.  He nervously cracked the knuckles of his right hand.

Braska reached out and put a hand on Jecht's shoulder.  "Trust me, Jecht.  I promise to answer all your questions in time."

"It just don't seem right."  Jecht frowned.  "I mean, it's one thing to kill stuff like overgrown insects and gigantic plants.  It's another to see something – I dunno.  It just seems wrong.  Like you're using somebody."

Braska nodded.  "I sometimes feel that way.  But Jecht, the people that gave their souls to create the Aeons did so centuries ago.  I could never ask someone to do such a thing – to give their life to be a tool for my magic.  But, it seems to me, that I would be foolish if I shunned the help of the Fayth.  They are our only defense against Sin.  Is it not a far greater crime to allow innocent and unwilling people to die terrible deaths?"

Auron slid his sword back into the holder on his back.  It was clear now that Jecht had no intention of harming Braska.  He wondered if the Summoner was going to tell Jecht about the Final Aeon.  There was a strong feeling of sadness flowing through the Call and Braska seemed unsure of himself.  For long moments, he watched as Jecht and Braska stood there.  Finally, Braska sighed and stepped away.

"We are close to the temple now, Jecht.  We can discuss this later if you like."

Jecht rubbed at the back of his neck; a nervous gesture.  "Yeah.  I guess talkin' here ain't the smartest thing."

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The group was met by an honor guard.  An old priest stood on the bridge that led to the temple flanked by the garrison second, a representative of the Chocobo Knights, and a young acolyte bearing flowers.  

Braska stopped mid-stride as he looked at the priest, his face registering a look of surprise and recognition.  He very nearly dropped his staff.

"Dear Yevon!  Master Qui!"  Braska's face lit up in a huge smile as he ran toward the little old man on the bridge.  "In the name of the Fayth, I never thought I'd find you still alive after all these years!"

The Summoner dwarfed the priest and the voluminous robes all but caused the man to disappear when Braska embraced him.  "Ah my boy."  A muffled chuckle floated out.  "I see they did not teach you restraint in Bevelle as I had hoped."

Braska let go of the man and took a step back.  He dropped to his knees and performed the sign of prayer.  "I apologize, sifu.  Forgive your wayward student."

"You truly never change, Braska."  The old man smiled.  "And will you introduce your Guardians?  I know one of them but the other…"

"Yes.  I am sure you know Sir Auron from his time at the garrison."  Braska stood up and motioned to the warrior.  Auron took a step forward, bowed, and stepped back.  "And this is Sir Jecht."

Jecht did not have time to step forward.  The old man was surprisingly quick.  Qui darted forward, his dark almond shaped eyes looking over the blitzer intently as though sizing up a piece of livestock.  "Tales say that you injured six Warrior Monks before being thrown in the Bevelle Locks, Sir Jecht."

"What of it?"  Jecht crossed his arms over his chest.  "You lookin' for a fight, old man?"  

"Jecht!"  Auron hissed the warning and glared at the blitzer.  His expression clearly said that calling out an old priest was not good etiquette.  

"No, I am not," Qui snorted.  "Well, Braska, I see your taste in friends has not improved either.  He is even more hot tempered than that Al Bhed you ran with, Cid."

Braska flushed and looked chagrinned.  "Master, please."

Auron was beginning to wonder if they were going to be allowed to approach the temple, much less the Fayth, when the old priest grinned and winked at him.  "Well, I am sure you are all tired and hungry.  These two fine men are here to escort your Guardians to quarters in the garrison.  You, Braska, will come with me.  We have much to discuss.  You have not had dokusan with me in more than fifteen years and I am eager to see how much you have forgotten.  The Trials can wait until tomorrow."

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The little creatures were everywhere.  Jecht thought he might go nuts.  

Not only did he have a pounding headache but he could hardly walk a step without the little critters – saru Auron had called them – running between his legs.  They seemed to make a game of it.  He'd tripped twice, sprained his ankle, bashed himself into doorjambs, and had two of them try to run off with his gauntlet.  He'd taken it off, along with the rest of his clothing, so he could have a nice soak in a hot bath.  When he turned around, the glint of light flashing on metal caught his attention.  Two of the saru had gotten under the arm bracer and were making for the door.  Jecht sprang, naked, into the hallway to snatch the thing.  They had chittered and jumped in indignation when the item was plucked from their grasp.  

As if it weren't humiliating enough to be chewed out by rodents, two female Chocobo Knights chose that moment to go down the hallway.  After giving Jecht's naked form an appraising look, the women suggested he lock downanything he didn't want to go missing in the provided chest.  They looked pointedly at his midsection before leaving and snickered all the way down the hall.

Finally, with everything he had but a towel and a key safely locked away, Jecht headed for the bathing rooms.  Auron had disappeared not long after locking up his own things and Jecht had no idea when the warrior might return.  A part of him had half a mind to find out what the locals drank and see where he could find those Chocobo Knights, but he quickly shook off those thoughts.  He'd made a promise to Braska, and more importantly to himself.  No more drinking.  He meant to keep it.

After scrubbing off the road dirt and sluicing the soap out of his hair in a shower he had a look around.  He finally picked a door that, he was pretty sure, said "mineral bath."  When he stepped inside, the steam was so thick he could hardly see.  The room smelled strongly of salt and sulfur.  Jecht grinned and slowly felt his way forward.  He sighed when his foot touched the hot water.  It was exactly what he needed.

An hour later, his skin shriveled up like the dried fruits Auron handed out with rations, Jecht slid his way out of the bath.  He took another, rather bracing, shower to wash off the mineral crust and made his way back to his room.  After his soak, he was so relaxed that even the little saru darting between his feet didn't bother him much.  Jecht didn't take the time to remove his towel before flopping onto the sleeping pallet.  He was out before his head touched the pillow.

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Auron's mind was a maelstrom of disturbing thoughts.  After putting his things away at the garrison, he headed for the temple.  He was confused.  Borrowing plain white robes and a scroll containing the Precepts of the Order of Warrior Monks from a priest, he ensconced himself in cloister before a makeshift altar hoping to still his mind through meditation. 

Kneeling, he lit three incense sticks from the candle flame and stuck them, upright, in the holder.  The grains of sand shifted softly, a brush of grit against metal that was laden with comfort and peace.  The rich deep scents of cinnamon, clove, sandalwood, and frankincense wafted upward on the smoke and filled the small stone room.  Auron bowed forward three times, brushing his forehead to the floor in submission to his God before moving backward to the cushion that lay on the floor behind him.  Settling into seiza he folded his hands in his lap and took three deep even breaths to prepare himself – to find his center where he might float above the cacophony of discord that filled his soul. 

He lowered his eyes to the floor, nearly closing them, and internally began the recitation of Precepts.

_//Heaven and earth are my parents, the people of Spira my brothers and sisters, Yevon my home…//_

He had been awake the night before when Braska and Jecht talked.  The disconcerting feeling of pity that struck him at the south bank of the Moonflow had returned as he lay there in the dark.  Listening to Jecht, he wondered about the family the man so often made reference to.  He wondered about the boy, Tidus.  What did they look like, this family of Jecht's?  What kind of woman loved a man like that?  Jecht was vain, pompous, and full of himself.  He purported to be the most famous blitz player in the history of Zanarkand.  If his boasts were true, Jecht could have had his pick of women.  Surely, she would be beautiful at the very least.  A man like Jecht never picked a woman for her brains.

_//Honesty is my power, Docility my means, Benevolence my armor, The Law my sword…//_

What kind of life did they live?  Jecht said he was never home.  Where was he?  Off playing blitz?  What was home?  A house like his own?  A place like Sam's family had in Luca?

The thoughts had rolled through his mind one after another until Auron had come to a strange and frightening realization.  He was no longer questioning Jecht's claim that he was from Zanarkand.  The knowledge of that had shocked him.  It had been very difficult to find the peace of sleep after that.  

_//My strength of will is my magic, Emptiness and fullness my tactics, Adaptability to all circumstances my principal…//_

When Jecht woke him for watch, his thoughts continued to disturb him.  Braska and Jecht's conversation implied that Jecht was here because Yevon sent him - that the hand of God had brought Jecht to Spira to help the Summoner gain the Final Aeon.  Was that why Braska insisted Jecht had to be protected?  That the man was necessary to the Journey?  Why did Braska think such a thing?  What proof did he have?  And if he had proof, why Braska refuse to share it?

_//I will meet speed with speed, Strength with yielding, Force with deflection, Retreat with attack…//_

Now that Auron had admitted that he believed Jecht, he had to ask himself - did he believe this new thing as well?  Could Yevon send a man like Jecht to be his instrument?  A sports star.  A man who, by his own admission, was little more than a self-indulgent drunk.

_//I will read my opponents intention in his eyes, I will dance upon the wind as a feather, he will not touch me…//_

The walk to the temple had done nothing to clear Auron's head.  Jecht had been strangely subdued and it only served to compound Auron's confusion.  The blitzer's reflexes in battle were now second nature.  Jecht was no longer startled when they were attacked and Auron was fairly certain that it would take little time for the man to master a few magical skills to augment his powerful strikes.  As a warrior, Auron easily conceded that having two swordsmen capable of executing breaks or spells would be a wonderful advantage.  Once past the Mushroom Rock Road, fiends became relatively easy to fight and teaching Jecht sword craft on the road would become much easier.  The combination of strength, power, and speed that could be found in Jecht's body were astounding.  It made Auron wonder what the man might have been if he had been raised in the Temples.

_//I deny the antagonist victory, I deny my death, I live to fight my sorrow…//_

All these things and more had cluttered Auron's mind as they approached Djose Temple.  While he still reserved judgment on Jecht's vow to give up drink, and he certainly still detested the man, he had to come to some kind of terms with the situation.  His Summoner – his friend – had two Guardians.  Auron had to find a way to set aside his thoughts, fears, and personal animosity toward Jecht.  He had to do so, if for no other reason, than to please his Lord and ease the man's days.  

For Braska's days on Spira were numbered.

_//In doing so I live as though already dead…//_

He had to decide what he believed.  He had to be sure.  And if what he believed went against the Teachings – went against the Laws of his Church – what then?  Was he a heretic?  Was Braska?  Did it make him evil?  Did it make him unworthy?

_//Yevon, help me.  What do I do?//_

Auron tried, in vain, to focus.  His eyes flashed open to stare at the long brushstrokes of the calligraphy that filled the scroll on the wall.  He began again.

Over and over he repeated the same process, never getting very far before a thought intruded and his mind wandered.  After the sixth attempt, he wondered if he should present himself to one of the priests and ask to be struck.  It had been years since he required it to keep focus during meditation but he seemed incapable of finding center.  It frustrated him almost as much as the questions in his mind.

_//If I ask the priest for caning, he will wonder why.  If I speak these words to another in dokusan what would they say?//_

For the first time since the death of his teacher, Barak, Auron nearly wept for the loss of him.  Barak had always known what to say.  Had the man lived, Auron could have unburdened his heart without hesitation and known there would be no reproof or accusation.  Barak would have spoken to him in that way he always did when Auron was deeply troubled – as a man speaking to another man and not a priest judging the actions of another.  Auron had loved Barak.  More than just his Sensei, the man had stepped into the role of father figure and filled it admirably.  More times than he could count, Barak had given sage advise, quietly guiding Auron through the most confusing and difficult decisions in life.

But Barak was gone.

Auron was alone.

He began again.

_//Heaven and earth are my parents, the people of Spira my brothers and sisters, Yevon my home…//_

As he closed his eyes and began the breathing exercise, Braska's face filled his mind.  Once, not so long ago, he had gone to Braska in a time of confusion.  It had stilled his heart then, could it do so now?

_//Barak would tell me to stop running.  He would tell me to face my fear.  He would tell me to trust.//_

Auron's eyes flashed open.  He moved forward to the makeshift altar.  He extinguished the incense sticks and the candle, performed the sign of prayer and left the room.  Focusing on the connection of the Call, he allowed it lead him – to lead him to his Lord.


End file.
